


What Lies Beneath

by Jopheil



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, M/M, Monsters, Pining, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Vampires, Witcher stuff, detective stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:51:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 101,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jopheil/pseuds/Jopheil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt had planned to hang his weary, old swords over the mantle after the reconciliation between the sisters and Regis' somber departure for the Nilfgaardian Empire. </p><p>He should have known by now that when something ends, something else begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was unwilling to part with Regis after the last dlc. A+++ character. 
> 
> **Disclaimers and warnings:** I do not own the characters and English is not my native language (hence, you might find errors here and there - and if there is anyone who wants to correct them or proofread the story then go for it/ask me for a copy to edit!). The story is also based on the books, the game (all the journals and notes), my theories and others' theories

“Your Grace wished to see me?” Geralt asked warily.

Anna Henrietta turned her head away from her guests, flickering bright blue-grey eyes to him. The dark-red dress with meticulous details snuggled to her curved figure, matching her quick-shifting temper, but her otherwise fierce eyes softened at the sight of him. Almost as if she was relieved.

“Ah, wonderful, the very man I seek! I’m delighted you could answer my abrupt calling with such haste, master witcher. We shall talk about it, but not here,” She said in that forever so courtly and authoritative tone. “Come, one of the Palace quarters must certainly be vacant.”

She stepped aside from her cortege, strolling elegantly towards the main halls of the palace with the dress draping after her.

Geralt inwardly cursed, because things that needed to be discussed behind closed doors had never really been good in his experience. Gods forbid it to be a simple errand for once. Especially in his retirement days.

He swallowed and took reluctant steps after her.

They walked past a myriad of nobles and guards, entering the palace. Noblemen from the court strolled idly between the rooms, and even if they looked at him as he got into their personal bubbles, then they quickly resumed to whatever business they had in some other rooms, looking just as uptight as always. Almost as if they didn't seem surprised that he was here.

Geralt suppressed the urge to scowl at their condescending glances and raised chins whenever they stared at him.

“You have already done Beauclair a great service and accomplished what certainly none other could have during the circumstances. Thus, it nothing but ails me to turn to your aid again after you have so justly settled in Corvo Bianco, as you should, but I fear I’ve no other choice but to discuss this delicate matter with someone as proficient at yourself,” Anna said eventually, still not meeting his eyes.

 _Damnit._  That sure sounded foreboding. Just like he thought. So much for his plans to idle around with Yen before her meeting, and sitting on the divan to stare at others working their asses off. The joys of retirement.

“Another beast bothering you, your Grace?” Geralt half-jested and looked cautiously at her, noticing the darker, almost purple circles beneath her eyes. Which wasn't a good sign either.

She flinched, almost imperceptive, at his comment, tensing her already rigid posture. 

"If only it was such a simple matter. No, it is - " She hesitated, brow creasing and mouth twisting ruefully. "It’s Syanna."

 _Shit._ That had never been a good conversation starter _either._

"What about her?" Geralt asked reluctantly.

Anna shot him a pensive look.

"I suspect you are au fait with the ball held to rejoice Syanna’s return to her legitimate duty as the heiress of Toussaint?" She said courtly, after a considerable pause.

Geralt furrowed his brows, not following the shifting pace of topic changes. "Kinda hard not to with all the posters, frantic talks and pre-celebrations all over Toussaint, Your Grace."

She smiled at him, but it looked more pained than anything else.

"As it should, master witcher. A ball is never successful if the inhabitants' hearts are not within it. A particularly essential feature when the main purpose of the ball was to celebrate the renascence of another heiress, Sylvia Anna. A simple, generous gesture to make the inhabitants of Toussaint oversee her treachery, which was all going accordingly to plans if not for - " She broke off and turned her head away from him, face twisting into a forlorn expression. "I do not know the details. None do. The sole leads are bystanders who all claim Syanna unexpectedly collapsed during the event without as much as a sign of what could have initiated it,” She added, voice hoarse and thick, suddenly stopping in the middle of the hall, and looked directly at him. “She has not awoken since. The doctors cannot discover the cause for her current state. They all label it as a curse. Could it be true Geralt? Another curse?”

Something rusty creaked and twisted inside his chest at the wretched expression, settling with a heavy pressure on his lungs. After everything that had happened, then Toussaint deserved some rest. They all did.

Then again, it didn’t necessarily need to be something evil around the corner.

“Could be. But there are many things that can induce permanent sleep too. Magic, venom, and herbs for an example," Geralt admitted, his thoughts going straight to the ball, because Syanna probably had a bunch of not-so-much fans of her. "What about the guests? No one suspicious? Anyone who could have poisoned Syanna during the ball?”

Anna Henrietta studied a painting of a woman with regal, blond curls and pale features for a few seconds, sighing heavily. “I have considered it, and it appears the most suitable theory I agree. Unfortunately, all who attended wore masks except Syanna and I. It would serve no point with the chief purpose to recognize the new heiress.”

 _Fuck._ That made everything much more complicated.

Geralt gritted his teeth in frustration, feeling like it was too late to turn down the case with those expectant eyes staring at him. Something in the back of his mind screaming – _Accept or become best pals with the gallows already tonight! Top offer!_

He sighed discreetly. “Could always investigate her in case I find something, if you want.”

Her entire face lit up, nodding approvingly, obviously the right answer.

“Splendid, gallant and virtuous, I expected no less. My guards shall escort you immediately to her chambers, alone I fear, as I have other matters to attend as well as it is also too - I -" She stopped all of the sudden, her lips quivering. She rotated her head to look straight into his eyes. "Thank you Geralt, for everything.”

 _Not like he had much choice,_ something snarked in his mind.

Feeling like that wasn't the right answer to say out aloud, Geralt settled with a brief nod instead before two guards in heavy armors walked towards him.

And escorted apparently meant something entirely different in Toussaint, with the guards watching his steps like hawks instead of everyone else’s until they reached Syanna’s room, the Duchess disappearing in the distance.

Geralt sighed again, opening the hefty, luxurious door with the guards staying outside.

Familiar furniture filled his view, but with one less person on the windowsill this time.

A wave of anger and deeply seethed loathe washed over him, bubbling and swirling wildly in his chest, wanting to still punch a hole in the wall.

All those damn consequences.

Dettlaff was dead. Regis gone, gods know where, exiled and hunted for all his damn existence. Syanna had been angry, bitter, with not the most fairy-tale like of backgrounds, despite all her visits to the land of a thousand fables, funnily enough, which was understandable. He had seen it too many times, consumed by rage and bitterness until there was just vengeance walking in a dead shell. But it still didn’t make up for what she had done to Dettlaff and Regis. All those innocent lives.

Geralt closed his eyes, memories of gory, mutilated corpses and Regis sinking his teeth into Dettlaff flashing past, before he opened them again.

The room hadn't really changed much since the last time he had been here. Filled with meticulously carved furniture with sharp colors, contrasting to the pale marble floor and the off-white pillars. Syanna appeared asleep, surrounded by a pile of get-well tokens and red beddings with golden damask patterns. The only sign of life was the peaceful, up-and-down motions of her chest.

Strolling slowly towards the bedside, he dragged his gaze across the room from the luxurious furniture to the marble floors. The medallion, however, kept eerily quiet.

Not magic then.

But there was a similar scent somewhere in the room.

He took a deep, loud inhale of air, his eyes widening.

Blood. It was the smell of blood, despite it being mostly spotless and tidy. A very distinct, yet vague scent.

He followed the scent across the room, sniffing, and found himself in front of the enormous windows that captured the mountains of Toussaint in the distance.

A small droplet of blood gleamed at him on the windowsill, small enough to make anyone miss it.

He frowned. _What the hell was it doing here?_

Geralt dug up a vial from his pouch, scooping up the droplet in the small container which barely filled the bottom layer. Dragging his gaze around, he scrutinized the borders and the curtains, but they were all in a pristine condition without a trace of where the blood droplet could have come from. One damn blood droplet. Usually there was more than just a droplet. _Unless –_

He walked briskly to Syanna and carefully tilted her head from side to side, revealing two smaller punctures on the skin at the lower end of the neck on the right side, staring mockingly back at him.

Air was stolen from him.

Those weren't birthmarks. They were small, vague wounds that were still healing.

_Another fucking vampire?_

Geralt ran a hand over his face.

Damnit. He had had enough of Syanna trying to socialize with vampires. Not to mention that his medallion and senses would be basically useless to find this potentially new vampire. He wouldn’t be useful for shit. His only hope would for it to accidentally drop clues or consciously make tracks for him, which basically never happened with higher vampires if they wanted to stay hidden, being sentient and highly intelligent. Never making any mistakes. Most of the time at least.

_Fuck._

* * *

“Geralt?” Regis frowned, wide-eyed, as he opened the door fully. Dark eyes flickered over Geralt's snowy hair, his armor of chains and leather, the two swords on his back, and his well-worn leather boots. Followed by a wide, fanged smile stretching across Regis' entire face, and walked towards him, raising his arms into the air. “Now this is a surprise, and a pleasant one too - My my!”

Geralt's mouth quirked into a grin. “Don’t smile so wide. Someone is liable to see, could mean trouble.”

Regis huffed, smile still wide enough to split his face. “I can’t help myself. Just so glad to see you.”

Geralt’s heart twisted, his own grin widening, suddenly all warm and fuzzy.

“Glad to see you too, my vampire friend,” Geralt said and wrapped his arms around Regis. The familiar scent of wormwood, basil, coriander, sage and anise flooded his nose, a sweet rush of relief washing over him with Regis still alive. Clutching onto Regis’ arms, he pulled himself out of the hug and swept his eyes over him, the tunic of leather and textiles, the forever, present satchel, and the wavy, grey hair. “What have you been doing, while I – Eh –“

“While you assimilated to the simple life of a hard-working, rural vintner? Sadly, nothing as radical as you. I found myself rather spectacularly content settling for the common life of a surgeon and the occasional alchemist when I feel particularly adventurous,” Regis said wryly, looking at him with big beady eyes. “However, the far more fascinating question is what I could have ever done to deserve Geralt of Rivia's legendary presence? _Have you finally found someone to afford my head?_ ”

Geralt snorted and crossed his arms, trust Regis to remember that conversation out of everything. "What. Can't I just visit a friend once in a while?”

Regis hummed, eyes shimmering mischievously.

"You could of course, but it would be terribly mundane. And you are, Geralt, anything but mundane," Regis smirked and stepped to the side, lifting one arm halfway into the air. "Alas, this is but a mere humble abode, nothing as outstanding as Corvo Bianco, but it should nonetheless manage to provide respite even for the Champion of Toussaint,"

“Will try to survive,” Geralt said equally wryly. “No clear invitation to be able to step into your home or something like your brethren?”

Regis arched an eyebrow, drawing himself straight.

“Really Geralt, must you? Contradictory to common knowledge, we do not need ludicrous invitations. Splintering the door usually does the trick,” Regis derided, the pleased smirk growing wider.

Regis walked into the cottage, leaving the door ajar with a stream of warm, orange light to seep through the gap into the darkness outside. Geralt walked right after him, stepping into what appeared a smaller living room, and closed the door behind them. A pair of comfortable-looking chairs had already been placed in front of a lively fireplace, the dancing flames and embers flickering as a welcome gesture at him. Herbs and vials were scattered over the whole place, just like in the cottage outside Fen Carn when he had met Regis for the first time.

“Charming place, cozy, nostalgic even. Just as cluttered as I expected,” Geralt teased, taking it all in.

Regis tsk’ed lightheartedly. “Well, as your presence very well proves, one can never truly know when you are in dire need of  _a particular stockpile._  Which conveniently leads to the next subject, as you must have traveled quite the distance, with many cold nights under the sky above no less. So, care for a warming snifter before I delve more into your fascinating presence?”

Geralt looked up, to see Regis being already near another door, watching him over his shoulder with an amused curve on his mouth.

A comforting, familiar sensation swept over him.

“Course. Never say no to that,” Geralt said with a grin, because like hell he would miss the opportunity.

Regis’ face lit up even more and disappeared from the room, leaving Geralt alone to take one of the seats in front of the hearth, hearing a shuffle of some glasses and bottles further back in the cottage.

He looked around, seeing only three smaller rooms, a living room with a rather large, stony hearth, a bedroom in the back of the cottage and apparently some sort of kitchen judging by the sounds. The walls were covered with sketched drawings of various plants and their properties. A long line of bookshelves all over the place to accommodate Regis' damn big collection of books. Several pieces of papers were spread out across a desk along with some familiar alchemy instruments and a pestle. Bottles neatly ordered in boxes. And the human skeleton in the corner, which stared back at Geralt with a helmet tilted on its skull.  _How the hell had Regis even managed to drag it all along by himself?_ Just too damn much for just one person.

A cup of the homemade brew was suddenly in front of his nose with a familiar scent of mandrake and jimsonweed, interrupting his trails of thoughts. Just much stronger than the one in the cemetery.

"Sheesh. Finally trying to drink me under the table to make me reveal all my secrets? Didn’t know you had it in you, Regis," Geralt quipped lightly and squinted his eyes at the accused person, taking the brew anyway.

Regis grinned down at him.

"Can you really blame me Geralt? I still feel I deserved far more than simply one question back then," Regis tutted without heat and placed himself on the other chair next to Geralt, holding his own cup of homemade brew between his legs, carefully swirling it.

Geralt could only stare at him, warmth spreading all over his body. It all reminded him of old times. Better times. When he didn't constantly feel guilty about his choices. The Regis he knew back at the cemetery. The Regis who had followed him on his journeys. The one who wasn't burdened with seemingly a million unspoken things in his mind.

Guilt swirled hot and heavy in his chest, replacing the warmth.

All the things he could have done differently, to prevent everything. Always dragging Regis into his shit, and still he had come here. Even if he knew Regis was better off without him.

Geralt tore his gaze away to settle it on his own cup, heart tugging painfully in his chest.

“How are you really doing Regis?” Geralt asked, throat dry.

Regis looked bemused, peering at him over the cup before shifting his attention back to the fire.

“Not to worry, Geralt. As long as I am out of my kin’s sight, then they usually leave me alone,” Regis replied, face inscrutable, but there was something forlorn in it.

Geralt tightened his grip around the cup. “That sounds damn lonely though.”

“Never mind that. I shall be fine –“ Regis threw him a weak smile, lolling his head to stare out of a window. “With time.”

Geralt doubted it, with all the doomed-for-eternity sentence. “Shouldn't there be something in your codex to – I dunno, make them forgive you though? Some rite of sorts? A gift?”

Regis sighed, shoulders dropping with it.

“No, none such exists. The codex is to be followed unconditionally, regardless of the circumstances, or –“ Regis trailed off and stared fixedly at the fire instead, orange tones dancing on his face. “My whole existence is condemned by their reckoning. But I shall overcome it, don’t doubt that for a moment.”

Geralt watched Regis for a long moment, raking his eyes over the defeated and resigned posture.

The scene when Dettlaff had been inches from attacking Geralt flashed past. He had grasped tightly to his silver sword, prepared to fight against Dettlaff after Syanna had been teleported to the land of thousand fables again. Alone. But before he had even managed to sprint forward to hit him, Regis had thrown Dettlaff away from him. Almost as if Regis had been  _protecting_  him, from his own damn blood-brethren.

He still didn’t understand it. And it had been nagging in the back of his mind ever since Regis had left for the Nilfgaardian Empire. To protect him, despite the consequences, risking their own skin for all bloody eternity. Becoming an anathema. _Because of_   _him._

His heart clenched painfully.

“Hate to pry, and not ungrateful, but why did you decide to stand against Dettlaff?” Geralt asked tentatively, peering closely at Regis.

For long seconds, Regis didn’t say anything, brows drawn together, and Geralt thought he wouldn’t even answer, when he suddenly sighed heavily.

“I felt rage had consumed him completely. He’d crossed the line beyond which he could no longer control himself. He’d have remained the beast, irrational, unfit to reason with, incapable of experiencing any of the emotions which, for simplicity’s sake, we shall call human," Regis finally said, pain evident on his face despite his impassive, factual tone. "I did not wish such a life upon him, never on a friend, and thus, I chose the better solution for all involved.”

Geralt stared at him, riddled with guilt, wanting to reach out, because it wasn’t right for Regis to look so – _hopeless._

“Can’t help thinking I could’ve done more though. It wasn’t part of our deal to protect me against Dettlaff or kill him. Could have just misted away while I spread Dettlaff's remains to postpone the regeneration or something, hope it would have calmed him down by the time he had fully regenerated,” Geralt continued.

Regis raised his head, black irises staring straight into Geralt's eyes. A strange glint gleamed in them for a fleeting moment, nails scraping on the cup before he suddenly averted his gaze, the expression turning solemn.

“I did what I had to do, that is all there is to it,” Regis said simply.

Geralt clenched his jaws, because the words in-between said there was more to it. “Yeah, because it was really worth getting exiled for the rest of your life _,_ killing your blood-brethren. You know, the vampire you  _owed your life too_?”

Regis' mouth drew into a taut line, along with the grip around his mug.

“And what could I have done instead? I did not wish such a bestial life upon him, and you very well know there was no telling what he would have done if I had not interceded in his highly agitated, unpredictable state. I do not doubt your skills, never done so, not for a moment. Yet, this was an exercise I was unwilling to put those skills up to the test,” Regis admitted stiffly, voice low and tense.

Geralt hesitated, but drew himself up. “Wouldn’t have blamed you if you had left me, though. It was the sensible thing to do. Could have –”

“Geralt, I’ve made peace with my decision and so should you,” Regis cut in firmly, jaw clenched.

Geralt swallowed, almost tasting the clearly tense subject. “Regis –“

Regis sighed, still not meeting his eyes. “Please, Geralt. It is in the past and I do not regret it, not for a moment.”

Geralt opened his mouth, but closed his mouth just as quickly as he stared at the defensiveness that whirled like an invisible halo around Regis, even if he knew there was something more to it.

He stared down at the swirling brew in his tankard, feeling the guilt swirl just as much inside of him. “You know that you can always count on me right? Could stay around, fight the vampires that bother you. The advantages of knowing a witcher, damn good one too, masterful even if I say so myself.”

Regis suddenly smiled widely at him, his fangs showing clearly in the dim-lighted room.

“What?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion at the sudden change of atmosphere.

“Sorry, Geralt. But to hear a human - even a specimen as amiable and astonishing as yourself - utter he will protect me, _a higher vampire_ , is as the hen uttering it shall protect the fox, but I am – grateful nevertheless. Thank you,” Regis grinned into his mug, taking a sip. Mischievous eyes fixated onto him. “But I find myself far more interested in discussing your latest, enterprising adventures. I hear the vines are particularly _nefarious_ during this time of the year in Toussaint.”

Geralt groaned loudly. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. “Don’t understand why people keep bringing that up. Not exactly the first witcher to retire.”

Regis’ eyes gleamed with poorly feigned indifference. “No, indeed. Hard to imagine why anyone would find it amusing for Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf famed through tales and ballads throughout the entire continent, _Butcher of Blaviken,_  finally taking on the daunting contract to pruning vines. Quite the mystery in fact.”

Geralt glowered without heat, feeling his mouth twitch in the corners. “Moments like this, I never know if you’re joking or serious.”

“I daresay it adds to my charmingly enigmatic character. I was, however, sincere in wishing to hear how you fare these days,” Regis leaned forward, lips curving into a genuinely fond smile, all directed towards him.

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat.

He picked up his tankard, took a swallow, and rested it in his lap again.

“Fine I guess. Drives Yen a bit mad though. It was fine in the beginning, but grew monotone quickly, so Yen accepted a position in the Nilfgaardian Court. Guess it’s expected when we were always on the path, never really settling anywhere. Never a dull moment with that kind of life on the path.” Geralt admitted, sighing heavily. “Shouldn’t complain though. Have everything we wanted and the occasional witcher contract.”

Regis eyed him with a searching stare.

"Change does not come easy for most, not when habits are so much more convenient in comparison," Regis said, dragging his eyes to the cup and swirling his brew, before he added more in a murmur; “I suppose neither of us received the desired outcome in that case.” 

Geralt frowned, bewildered. Regis had said he hadn’t regretted his choices. “What do you mean?”

Regis' eyes widened, slightly panicky, as if he had been caught red-handed in action without realizing it.

“None that matters. Don’t mind my rambles,” Regis said quickly and averted his gaze, nail scraping worryingly on the cup. “Not that I do not enjoy your company, the truth is quite the opposite in fact, but any particular reason why you suddenly resolved to pay me a visit?”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, but gave into the topic change for now. “The Duchess hired me for another mission. Thought to pay you a visit while I was traveling around here anyway.”

Regis' whole face turned darker for a mere millisecond, but Geralt managed to catch it before it twisted into passive indifference.

“My, the Duchess of Toussaint even. Dare I hazard a guess it is related to  _vampires_?” Regis said wryly, with an undertone of sharp repulsion.

Geralt hesitated, staring at Regis’ shoulders that slightly crowed up to his ears, because he knew Regis was still bitter, furious with Syanna, too. With all right.

“Mhm. Not sure yet, but –” He exhaled loudly, looking warily at Regis. "Got something to do with Syanna again. Appears to be in some sort of – vegetative state. No one knowing how or why. Only found some bite markings on her neck and some blood in her room. Could mean lots of things, not necessarily vampires, never even heard of any sort of vampire to put their victims into such states. But haven't managed to find anything else either for a week.”

“And thus, you conducted an expedition to Nilfgaard to interrogate me about my brethren’s faculties?” Regis tapped the cup with one of his sharp-nailed fingers in sudden understanding, sounding amused and almost -  _bitter._

“Don’t forget visiting an old friend too. Kill two birds with one stone,” Geralt tried to tease, the tense atmosphere still hanging in the air.

“Oh stop, please. Anymore sentimentality and it will get to my head,” Regis mocked back before a more thoughtful look plastered on his face.  _“_ Hm. It is possible to induce a vegetative state if the blood-flow towards the brainstem is subdued, preventing nutrition and the essential properties alike to proceed. Of course, Alp's saliva is notorious to trigger sleep-like pattern too, as I’m sure you know, though only for a short period of time.”

“What about higher vampires then?” Geralt asked.

Regis hummed, forehead creasing. “It is another possibility I suppose. I do recall a few to have unique talents similar to Alp’s saliva, but I sincerely doubt it is the case. I know of none in the area, more akin to legends than proper facts to be candid, especially in Toussaint.”

Geralt drew out a long breath. Guess he had to look through a pile of books after all. Not his ideal way to spend his retirement.

“So damn little to go on,” Geralt said, taking another swallow of the hooch, his throat pleasantly heating up. “What if it is higher vampire though, how would I go about to find it? Your Unseen elder?”

Regis narrowed his eyes, turning to face him directly.

“Does the sentence ‘dangerous is simply a scandalous understatement’ mean something entirely different to witchers?” Regis said sternly, as if he would personally drag Geralt as far as possible from Toussaint if he as much as considered it. "No, Geralt. It is not even an option. Not any longer."

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him.

“The hell? What’s so different now from last time? Aren’t exactly many other options left to choose from Regis, so can’t be picky," Geralt argued, sighing when Regis' firm expression didn’t wane. "Fine. What about another vampire then?”

“Not by much, as I’m sure you recall the last time," Regis pointed out, a finger pointing in the air. "Am I to understand that you do not have the necessary ingredients to brew another potion of resonance?”

Geralt nodded.

“Mhm. Guessed right. Don’t exactly grow spotted wights or occipital lobe stimulants in my fields. Still have that to get that approved by the Duchess,” Geralt derided drily. “And the blood might not even be from the culprit. Hell, could even be Syanna's blood for all I know, or some combination.”

“Which could create rather perplexing, merged visions between the memories of the two, not to mention hypothetically dangerous as the deviation from the original formula could create something entirely different,” Regis nodded in understanding, mouth twisting ruefully. “I’m sorry Geralt, I’m at my wit’s end and if not for the current -  _circumstances_ , I would accompany you to Toussaint, in a heartbeat, but I fear my brethren’s memory is still quite intact. No doubt for a few millenniums more. ”

Geralt’s stomach twisted and shook his head. “Don’t bother. Will find another way. Came mostly to see how you were doing after all.”

The bouquet from the brew and the warmth surrounded him like a warm blanket, which was more than he had had for the last couple of days.

“What precisely will you do? What are your current thoughts?” Regis asked, shifting all of his piercing attention on Geralt all of the sudden.

He struggled to not fidget under the scrutinizing stare, not really knowing what Regis tried to fish out.

“Dunno. But been in worse situations, like finding rat shit, but managed to find that too. Thought about looking through the library here. It’ll be fine. Always manage to pick up a trail,” Geralt said and slumped into his chair, the heat from the fire loosening his muscles.

“I do hope you are not considering to face this potential higher vampire alone?” Regis said, voice slightly strained.

_There the fish was._

Geralt raised his brows. “I’m a witcher, Regis. It’s what I do. Not like I haven’t been through that before. Not likely the last either.”

Regis threw Geralt a shrewd, calculating side-glance for a long moment. A pained and contemplative frown covered his forehead, making him look much older and wearier, before he turned to stare intensely into his cup.

“Hm. I see,” Regis said slowly. “I guess it settles matters. I shall accompany you to Toussaint. It is your best option in consideration of all, modesty all aside.”

Geralt’s eyes widened, unable to prevent his stomach from tightening.

“What -  _No._  Out of the question. Said yourself that you can’t return to Toussaint for a vastly long time because every damn vampire wants your ass there,” Geralt said sternly, trying to hide the tint of panic in his voice. Because like hell Regis was going back with him, over his dead body.

Regis huffed, a small smile quirking on his lips.

“Right you are. Though you must certainly recall a higher vampire, such as myself, who does not wish to be found, will not be found either,” Regis reminded him, eyebrows lifted up in a challenge.

Which didn’t help the panic spreading in Geralt’s stomach, because  _every_  damn vampire in Toussaint was after Regis.

“Doesn’t matter. Seen you die once and that was enough. Didn’t come here to drag you back to from where you fled,” Geralt continued, the panic starting to eat at his chest with this damn vampire who didn't have any self-preservation if it meant helping someone else.

Regis breathed out a long exhale. “And yet it is the better option of all. I also, with all due respect, sincerely doubt you have any other, nearby higher vampires to voluntarily help you with this task.”

Geralt glowered at his tankard, inwardly cursing. Because Regis was right, but it would only be a problem if the culprit was really some sort of vampire, a higher vampire at that. And if it wasn’t, then he didn’t need the help of another higher vampire.

A red-haired vampire popped into his mind, feeling a flicker of hope and relief, because that might keep Regis from following him back to Toussaint.

“What about Orianna?”

Regis’ nose wrinkled, pained.

“An option I admit, for a price of course. A price I am quite certain you’d not wish to agree to,” Regis admitted reluctantly, giving him a meaningful look.

Geralt stomach lurched unpleasantly, dreading what it could be. But then again. He didn’t have many other options. Either he waited for the culprit to strike again, hope for a trace, if it even would strike again, risking Syanna’s condition to become worse, or tried to contact someone or something that could trace wherever the blood was from.

He stared at Regis' determined posture, having a nagging feeling that Regis would follow him whether he wanted it or not. Like when he had exiled Regis after he had figured out he was a higher vampire, observing from the shadows instead and worming his way into everyone’s hearts until they couldn’t say no to him. Always being there for him for some damn reason.

And he would be more at risk in the shadows than being near Geralt.

Geralt inwardly cursed.

He knew he shouldn’t have traveled here.

Geralt heaved out a defeated sigh. “Sure you can hide from all those vampires? Won’t they recognize your scent or something? Recognize you?”

Regis' face lit up in a pleased little smile.

“Yes, well, that is a surmountable problem. Very few lesser vampires live within Beauclair, and I shall simply cover my main characteristics to avoid unwanted attention from the others,” Regis said simply, without further explanation, way too cheerful for someone who thought about walking into a war zone.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, wondering what the not surmountable problem was then.

He gritted his teeth, his skin growing cold despite the fire just in front of him, but there weren’t exactly any other choices. At least not better ones. “Fine. But don’t walk out of my sight and -“

Regis emitted an insulted sound. “Please Geralt -“

“Gonna live in Corvo Bianco with me and Yen. No arguing about it, not up for discussion,” Geralt interrupted, serious.

Regis threw him a pointed look. “The cemetery would prove a far better alternative. A supreme laboratory for starters -“

“And you forget Corvo Bianco got one in the wine cellars, less dusty too,” Geralt interrupted again, wryly.

“And risk the lives of your laborers, not to mention yours and Yennefer’s? No Geralt, I will not. I would be the sole person to deal with the consequences of my brethren in the cemetery,” Regis said, unwavering.

Geralt stared back, equally steadfast. “Fine. Everyone will take a vacation during the mission, full-paid. Majordomo and Marlene might complain, but they will understand once I explain the situation. There. All solved.”

Regis looked up at the ceiling and sighed, sounding exasperated in a fond way. “You will not concede until I have agreed to your terms, will you?”

Geralt smirked at that.

“No.”

Regis took a deep breath, a small, lop-sided smile spreading on his face.

“Have it your way. Though if it reveals too troublesome then I shall move my belongings and presence to the cemetery,” Regis replied.

Geralt huffed. “Won’t happen. Don’t think it can be safer with a witcher, a sorceress and a higher vampire.”

“Strange bedfellows we will certainly make,” Regis derided, grinning. “So be it. I suppose I shall begin gathering my most significant belongings, unless you want to head to Toussaint right away?”

“Depends what you are bringing,” Geralt said wryly.

Regis’ face was inscrutable, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Oh, nothing in particular, merely necessities of course.”

Geralt threw him a suspicious look. “Fine then. Will just sit here meanwhile,”

Regis nodded and got to his feet, the noise of clinking vials and decoctions sounding right after.

" _Now where did I put those tomes?_ " Regis said behind him.

Geralt groaned loudly. This would be a long and heavy way back.  _Necessities his ass._


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you absolutely certain Yennefer will not be bothered?” Regis asked, face covered with anxious wrinkles. "The cemetery is not far from here after all."

Geralt released a light sigh at the same question he had already heard three times, and shut the door to Corvo Bianco to fend off the nightly cold on the outside.

“Relax, not like she will zap you just 'cause you came uninvited,” Geralt tried to reassure instead, his eyes darting suspiciously to a few ignited tapers on the dinner-table and the embers in the fireplace that sparkled in orange and yellow tones, hissing in the otherwise silent house. As if someone was expecting their arrival, even if it was striking towards midnight.

“Thank the gods for that. As fascinating the unique experience was, then I do not particularly enjoy being a shapeless smear,” Regis replied dryly.

Sharp pain tugged his heart, the reminder still managing to agitate the old, sensitive wound. He hastily abandoned the feelings and memories, pulling himself together to throw Regis a crooked grin. “Suggest that you still try to be on her good side then, just in case.”

Regis lifted an amused brow. "Oh? Do I sense a good story coming along?"

“What’s this? Visitors? This late in the evening without as much as a notice?” A familiar, wry voice joined behind them.

Geralt flinched, a trickle of dread running through him, and turned around to see a tall, dark figure sauntering from the bedroom, violet eyes glistening in the dulled light. 

 _Shit._ He recognized those questioning and accusing eyes anywhere.

_Yennefer._

Who looked anything but happy to see him.

But before he even could defend himself, Regis stepped in.

“Which fault is solely on my part, I fear," Regis announced, bringing one of his hands to drag down the hood. "I intended for a raven to deliver a note about our arrival, but alas, it slipped my mind to bundle a few papers in our haste.”

Yennefer dragged her narrowed eyes over to Regis and folded her arms tightly to her chest.

Geralt fidgeted, flickering wary glances between them, with Regis just looking unruffled and stoic under Yen's authoritative gaze. He knew he should have said something, found someone to carry a message when he was about to arrive, _that Regis would arrive with him_ , knowing she would be pissed for being left out again, but then Yennefer's lips twisted into a wide smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous Regis. The door shall always be open for you, even if I have a strong suspicion it is not particularly needed for you,” She said, loosening her sharp stance. Geralt’s brows went almost to the hairline. Yen did not usually like it when things didn't go according to her plans. Something was off. “Though, a very  _reliable_  source in this very room had informed me that you had stationed yourself in Nilfgaard for good.”

Regis snorted lightly.

“Which would lead to the deprivation of your undeniable lovely company. An alternative I would certainly not have,” Regis bowed before Yennefer and then straightened up with a dashing smile.

“My, oh my, such a gentleman," Yennefer cast a wry smile at Geralt. "Quite the lovely change. Perhaps you should become his apprentice Geralt. Learn a thing or two. Preferable twenty.”

Regis chuckled lowly, but somehow Geralt couldn't really hear the humor, as if was fake.

“Don’t be too harsh on him, my dear. He has manyfine qualities. He merely hides them from the perilously prying eyes around him,” Regis added overly cheerful, mouth grinning.

Geralt suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Great, just what he needed, them ganging up against him. It was enough with one constantly mocking commentator on his life.

“Mm, a little bit too well sometimes,” Yennefer continued in a tease, turning her probing gaze to him all of the sudden.“And somehow my intuition tells me Regis isn't here for a sudden social call?”

Geralt grimaced, hearing the sharp undertone in it, and he turned to Regis, almost for help. “Tried to convince him to stay in his home in Nilfgaard, but discovered that he doesn't have the word 'no' in that large vocabulary of his, surprisingly enough."

Regis looked at him with an amused, genuine smile and tsk'ed.

"I suspect what Geralt is trying to convey is that we have  _both_  agreed upon combining our resources to investigate the matter. As we believe there is a likelihood we are dealing with another of my brethren,” Regis chided in an affectionate tone.

Yennefer tensed again and sent an accusing look at him. Geralt swallowed, fully expecting a portal to pop into existence at any time. “Really now? There were no other choices than the expedition that would aggravate your  _situation_  even further?  _Really none?”_

The smile slipped from Regis' lips and turned his head towards Yennefer.

“Sadly none with the same expertise, nor capacity to handle a higher vampire,” Regis said, voice slightly defensive all of the sudden.

Yennefer stared skeptically at them for a long moment, but eventually sighed deeply as if she had given up on the whole race of men.

"Well, go on then Geralt, aren't you going to show our guest  _around?_ " Yennefer said drily, gesturing her hand all over the room expectantly. "Sadly, I have to retire for a ghastly early meeting tomorrow. Emhyr has demanded my presence, but I suppose Geralt is capable of giving you at least a  _decent_ tour without too many grunts to describe our estate. I shall simply add whatever he missed when I return," She added derisively, regarding them. Regis' eyes had narrowed slightly, but it was such a small change that Geralt thought it was his imagination. “Until then, I’ll see you both later.”

She sent Geralt a final glance with her intense, stormy eyes, before returning to the bedroom.

“ _Well._  She did not _appear_ particularly bothered,” Regis commented lightly, staring intensely into the empty space where Yennefer had just been.

“Mhm, passed the trial, congratulations. Not many who have done that. Think she even likes you," Geralt murmured, affecting sarcasm. "Come on, the guest room is upstairs,” He went on, leading Regis across the living room and up the carpeted stairs to the second level of the house.

“Not much. Still better than the cemetery though,” Geralt said as he opened the new, wooden door to the guest room.

The room was mostly dark, except for a small taper on the night table, spreading a faint, warm light underneath the window. The bookshelves were all empty with Yennefer’s books in the downstairs shelves, accompanied by elegant mahogany furniture. Fresh fruits and refreshments had been placed neatly here and there on the minor tables to spiff up the room.

For a few seconds, Geralt just stared at the tidy and beautifully appointed room. He had fully expected it to be crammed with Yennefer's collection of black dresses  _and_ , even some pea-green and off-white dresses, he still smirked at that, with it being mostly a storeroom whenever someone wasn’t visiting them. Someone had been cleaning it in his absence.

“You underestimate the sheer number of rubbles I’ve used temporarily as camps. This will do splendidly in comparison,” Regis admitted beatifically.

For a moment Geralt could only stare at Regis, a pang of heavy emotions flaring through him, twisting his heart.

Regis threw him a side-glance in the new silence, huffing.

“Geralt, this may come as a surprise to you, but you are not actually responsible for every outcome in this world. Now, shall I relieve you of your burdens so you can accompany Yennefer before her meeting?” Regis abruptly reached out a hand, eying one of his bags in Geralt’s hand.

Slightly dazed, not knowing what to really say, Geralt just did as he was told as in a trance, handing it over and beginning his way out of the room, but stopped at the door, hesitating.

“Sure you don’t need anything else?” Geralt asked over his shoulder, staring at Regis already rummaging through the contents of the satchel and the bags on the bed.

Regis stiffened and seemed surprised, before he looked up at him with a soft expression.

“I'm certain, Geralt. Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning,” Regis said, the strange glint gleaming in his eyes again.

Geralt didn’t really know what it meant, but something told him it was significant. He opened his mouth, but Regis seemed to instantly drift into a blank facade and shift to the knapsack so his back was almost completely turned towards him.

Geralt's heart sank, but closed his mouth, knowing Regis was trying to close whatever he tried to talk about. Even if he didn't even know himself what he wanted to talk about.

He reluctantly left the room, taking a final glimpse of Regis unpacking his array of books, chemical solutions and ingredients from the satchel and knapsack onto the shelves in the room. 

An odd content feeling ran through him, feeling as if things were going in the right direction for once. Him dealing with the consequences. Taking care of what he should have done a long time ago. 

Geralt took a deep breath, shaking himself, and descended the stairs.

Yennefer lay motionlessly on the big, double bed when he walked into the bedroom, her raven-black hair glistening eerily in the dim light. The unicorn glowing faintly in the corner, coat reflecting the dim light in the room.

“A little warning next time would be nice,” Yennefer drawled out in the silence.

Geralt flinched in surprise, expecting her to be asleep. He took a long breath, too tired to argue, and took off his dark, chained armor to place it on the chair, settling his belt with bombs, potions and swords in the corner.

“Wasn’t expecting him to follow me back to Toussaint. Also kinda difficult to write and send notes in-between avoiding every vampire in this country and whirling around monsters. Gotta improve that skill one of these days,” He drawled back and climbed into the bed, almost melting at the soft linen caressing his skin.

Yennefer turned around in the bed and stared at him. 

“Excuses, excuses. Always the same with you. Lucky for you I,  _unlike others_ , expected him to return with you. Enough to prepare the guest room for the poor man to not suffocate from all my dresses, which does not befit a higher vampire's gravestone, I’d say,” Yennefer said, a smirk growing on her lips. “Oh, don’t look so bewildered, Geralt. It’s Regis. Of course he wouldn’t let you venture alone to fraternize with another potential murderous vampire. As wouldn’t I. Sometimes I do wonder if you even know the basic concepts of friendship.”

“Figured thousands of vampires wanting to kill him would put him off,” Geralt grumbled petulantly.

Yennefer arched her brows, amused.

“Not for people who truly care about you,” She pointed out, trying to explain emotions to him as if he was a child, but then her expression turned more serious, sharp. “I shall be gone for a few days, at the minimum. I’ll occasionally teleport back to check in whenever I have the time, but do not hesitate to contact me if you run into trouble, alright? Even if I suspect that your pride and self-sacrifice tendencies would forbid it, but I suspect Regis will be at least sensible enough to contact me if anything happens.”

The lilac and gooseberry scent swirled around his senses, the scent of home these days.

“Will you ever stop surprising me?” Geralt said.

Yennefer smirked at him, eyes bright with affection.

“No. I like keeping you on your toes.” She said and kissed him.

* * *

Geralt woke up alone in the bed and stretched over to the other side that was still warm from Yennefer, not really wanting to get up. He grunted as he pushed himself reluctantly off the bed, cracking his shoulders. All his muscles still ached from all those books. He knew those  _necessities_  would be a pain in the ass.

He sighed, dressed himself and opened the door, almost jumping back in surprise to see Regis almost sitting right outside the door to his quarters, engrossed in some book, with piles of other books and notes scattered all over the dinner table along with various plates of food. He stared at it in shock for a second. 

“See that you decided for some light reading to your morning snifter. Sure you don't need more books?" Geralt said wryly, gesturing to all the books all over the place that threatened to take over the house.

Regis hummed in acquiescence, keeping his eyes on the book. “You shall be very proud of my demeanour once you know it was either pursuing a few tomes in an attempt to conduct this fascinating case in a more orderly manner or transforming into a bat and terrify the townsfolk to assuage the dullness of my mood.”

Geralt huffed out a laugh. “What. Don’t vampires need to sleep once in a while, rest or something?”

“Another popular misconception of higher vampires, alas, believing we are in need of rest to boost vigor for our ‘illustrious decadent deeds’. We only hibernate whenever we wish to pass time, decadent deeds are conducted regardless,” Regis said facetiously and leaned further back in the chair, turning languidly a page in his book.

Geralt snorted, memories from Novigrad popping up in his mind. “Oh yeah. Met one of those. Woke it up too.”

Regis lifted his gaze, and arched one eyebrow. “I take it this vampire didn’t throw its arms around you to give you a proper warm greeting?”

“Well, he did tell me to fuck off,” Geralt deadpanned.

Regis laughed, a full, deep laugh that made his eyes sparkle. Geralt grinned, feeling almost proud.

“Manners was clearly not his strong suit,” Regis replied derisively once he had managed to control his laughter and turned to the book in front of him again, before his head suddenly jerked up again. “Ah yes! Before I forget once again, Yennefer sends her utmost regards.”

Regis gestured idly towards a letter and a red rose neatly placed neatly beside a silver plate, his usual spot. The paper was tinted yellow, elegant handwriting addressing him on the front and releasing a scent of lilac and gooseberries as he opened it.

> _Dearest_
> 
> _I do hope this weighty investigation with Regis is merely not a cover to indulge yourself in exquisite ladies, wines and Regis' infamous home-brewed concoctions, at least not without my company in it. Nonetheless, I discussed the details of the case with our friend and I have already sent the laborers, Barnabas-Basil and Marlene to another destination in Toussaint, which is the reason for the extravagant amount of food on the table to survive another week. Shall you find yourself empty of nutrition despite this, then you will have to become more intimately acquainted with your passion for cooking. Add water to the eggs this time._
> 
> _I'll be with you shortly. Your Yen._

Guess that explained why there was enough food to feed half the population of Beauclair. Geralt folded the letter with a small smile, putting it in one of his pockets.

He looked up and caught Regis trying to discreetly peer at him over his book, eyes alight with concern and something more inscrutable. 

"Only good words I hope?" Regis asked tentatively.

"Yeah. Just reminding me that I can't keep frolicking now when the spell has been lifted. Can't visit the brothel every weekend anymore. Goddamnit, dunno how to spend my weekends now," Geralt said with heavy sarcasm.

Regis’ eyes widened.

"You are not - ?" Regis said in a strange, choked voice, looking thrown off for once.

Geralt shook his head. “No, not anymore. Managed to find a Djinn in Skellige to break the spell. So everything is out of free will now.”

Regis smiled, eyes still serious, as if it was forced. Geralt couldn’t help the confusion at it.

 _“Oh dear,_ seems I do have missed quite a bit. I’m nevertheless happy to hear it, certainly ever more so for Dandelion, as I have heard there is quite the demand for a sequel to ‘The Wolven Storm' by Priscilla. Though these news should spur his otherwise-so-continuous creativity,” Regis said wryly, tone a bit less humorous than usual.

Geralt groaned dramatically. He had had enough of ballads and stories to haunt him all over the damn place. Would only get worse now when Priscilla was in the picture too. _Twice as many ballads._

“Careful, or you might find yourself in one of the next ballads. 'Regis the obnoxious vampire' rings a nice tune,” Geralt snarked back.

Regis chuckled deeply, face breaking into something more genuine and fond. “Aah, an indubitable future hit-seller that one. Very creative. So concise, yet descriptive.”

Geralt grinned, still finding it hard to take in that Regis was sitting in front of him. Alive. As if nothing had happened. When he had thought he would never see Regis again after Vilgefortz.

He still remembered those long days after the battle at Stygga Castle. The wretchedness. The many nights when nightmares had woken him in the middle of the night, hearing Regis’ endlessly shrill screams and the images of melting skin sticking onto the surface of his eyes. The self-loathing and pain had almost consumed him whole.

It was suddenly extremely difficult to breathe even in the open room, as if two invisible hands were strangling his throat.

Geralt threw away that thread of thoughts, shifting his attention to one of the pouches placed with the rest of the armors and weapons across the room instead. Because there was something he had wanted to ask Regis ever since he had decided to follow him back to Toussaint.

“Oh yeah. Meant to show you something,” Geralt said.

Regis' eyes snapped up to him. "Oh?"

Geralt strode up to the pouch, digging out a vial, and then returned quickly to the table to reach it over to Regis. “The blood from Syanna's windowsills.”

Regis stared at the vial, intrigued, and put his book on the table, rising from his seat. Clawed fingers clasped around the glass and raised the vial to the height of his eyes. He turned it around in various directions for a long moment, humming, making the reflecting light from the glass to dance on the walls around him.

“It is from a higher vampire, without a doubt,” Regis announced after a while, without elaborating, expression stern.

Geralt drew in a sharp breath, heart hammering.  _Dammit._ Not what he had wanted to hear.

“How do you know?” Geralt probed.

“Place the vial in a horizontal position and observe it closely,” Regis opened his hand with the vial in front of Geralt’s chest.

Geralt met Regis with a searching look, who just stared expectantly back at him.

He threw Regis a suspicious stare, but grabbed the vial and placed it flat on the edge of the table that wasn't overrun by food and books, with Regis still staying silent. He crouched down slightly, a few inches from the glass, not really knowing what to even look for when he suddenly saw it.

Movements.

He stared at it in shock. The blood was moving. Only slightly, towards Beauclair, but it still moved in the glass container. He checked that the vial wasn’t leaning down the same way it was moving. But it wasn't, more like it was slightly tilted upwards in the direction Beaculair, and still it moved. On its own.

Geralt looked up, befuddled, meeting dark, black eyes that stared just as intently back at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means it is attempting to return to the host,” Regis responded grimly, serious.

Geralt stared at the vial, captivated by the blood that continued to gradually close the distance to Beauclair. “Regeneration? This is how it works? Slowly assembling your parts?”

“Not exactly. It is – how should I explain it,” Regis paused for a second, putting fingers to his lips. “Regeneration is, as Dettlaff demonstrated with his hand, when we regrow tissues. In states of weakness, however, we tend to instead rely on reattachment which is, as you certainly recall during Dettlaff’s final moments, when we assemble detached tissues. There is a, almost trivial, pull towards the host, preparing to attach. And thus, this blood signifies of that very process.”

“So what, the culprit is towards that direction?” Geralt raised his gaze again, a flicker of hope daring to swell up inside.

“Not necessarily either,” Regis said and squashed the flicker hope with full force, huffing, because apparently he could read all of Geralt's thoughts on his face. “True, there is indeed a possibility it is truly pinpointing towards the culprit. Yet, we still don’t know if the blood belongs to the actual perpetrator of the crime.” 

Geralt saw where this was going, exhaling slowly. “Sure. But kinda suspicious though. 'Cause why would the blood be even there if it wasn’t connected to Syanna somehow?”

Regis' eyes glimmered mysteriously, smirking. “Indeed, which is precisely what I intend for us to find out.”

* * *

“I do adore your company, I do, but I could simply travel to her chambers in my less corporeal form. Much quicker and easier, for us both,” Regis said as they walked on the steep road to the Duchess’ Palace. 

Geralt huffed out a breath. “And left you potentially to be found by the guards? Making the Duchess suspect you for all of this? Don’t think so. And you know it too, just admit you are out of shape.”

Regis made a small offended noise, a bit out of breath to confirm it. “I -“

“Mama! Look! Look at the sire’s sharp teeth! Is he a mutant mama? A witcher?” A child chirped before them, quickly hushed and tugged towards the opposite direction from them by a brown-curled woman, sending a quick apologetic glance at Regis.

Regis instantly snapped his mouth shut with teeth clanking, lips almost merging together, and took a firmer grip over the satchel with both of his hands, veiling his sharp nails.

Geralt snorted, eyes curving wickedly.

“Been telling you to not open your mouth so wide,” Geralt threw him a smug, satisfied grin. “Ever considered filing down those teeth to more human-looking ones?”

Regis sent him a clearly feigned unimpressed glance.

“For a brief moment, until I realized I would not be able to terrify inquisitive, nosy humans in such case. Particularly one valiant witcher, and that would just not do,” Regis deadpanned before he continued forward as if nothing had happened, but using fewer wide movements with his mouth.

Geralt’s grin widened, hurrying his steps to catch up.

Regis suddenly hummed, looking contemplative. “The more I keep thinking of the situation, the less likely it appears to involve a higher vampire. At least not as the puppeteer, that is.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Why? Don’t think one of your kin could have done it?”

Regis shook his head.

“On the contrary. However, Syanna would have been the prime source of attention during the ball. For a higher vampire to target such a salient person when there are other, far more discreet options, would be ill-advised, foolish in fact. Therefore it, I repeat, seems unlikely in comparison to the other alternatives,” Regis pointed out.

Geralt felt bemused, because Regis had a point. But then again, it wasn’t unusual for the least obvious alternative turning out to be the right one all along. Not in his line of work.

“Didn’t think spotted wights still existed either, but we still managed to find one. Can’t rule out any options just yet,” Geralt reminded him.

Regis' sharp gaze transfixed on Geralt, his expression as dark and serious as his eyes. “I know. Though higher vampires do not usually meddle with human affairs. If they have in Toussaint, then it must be due to something grave.”

Geralt pressed his lips together firmly, because he knew that too, which had nagged him ever since he had accepted this case.

They had reached nearly the top of the mountain, getting closer to Syanna’s quarters which was a bit further away from the first buildings. A pair of familiar guards shielded the door to Syanna’s quarters in the distance, eying them with darkly suspicious looks as they neared them and tightening the grip over the spears that formed a cross in front of the door.

Geralt just continued forward, expecting them to raise their weapons.

They didn’t.

“State your business,” One of the guardsmen demanded, the voice echoing in the armor, and darted his gaze between Geralt’s pale hair and the cat-slithered pupils.

Apparently the Duchess hadn’t informed her cavalry of everything.

Geralt heaved out a sigh. Tired of the same dance again.

“Here to investigate Syanna,” Geralt said simply.

The guards exchanged some doubting glances with each other.

“Her most Illustrious Grace has ordered strict instructions to not let anyone pass without her permission,” One of the guards drawled, a clear message to get out of their sight.

Geralt wanted to drag his hands over his tired face.

“Shouldn't be a problem then, since the head of the investigation should have permission? You know, Geralt of Rivia?  _The witcher?_ ” Geralt said slowly, as if speaking with children. It appeared to make the magic though, with one of the guards' body stature loosening and eyes appearing to brighten up.

He watched the guard warily. He had seen that look before, just didn’t remember where, nor if it was good or if he was supposed to run.

The unimpressed guard broke in before he could even contemplate it; “I beg your pardon, sir, but -“

“Wait, Hughes," The other guard broke in, grasping the other’s shoulder. "It is the Champion of Beauclair, the slayer of the beast! He’s really the one inspecting the case. The Illustrious Highness requested him herself,” The other guard whispered frantically and the grip over the more stern guard’s weapon slackened, but it didn’t soften the glare directed towards Regis. And neither did the dreamy look from the guard who had recognized his name.

Geralt’s stomach lurched unpleasantly, realization hitting him.  _A fan._

Run. He definitely wanted to run, remembering the time a fan had followed him almost across all of bloody Toussaint. _Almost into his house._

“Permission granted. Unfortunately, your associate does not have the permission to investigate the quarters, and thus, access is denied,” The more tense guard said.

Geralt sighed and looked at Regis, a wordless ' _What the hell do we do now?'_

Regis gave him an unconcerned shrug, eyes gleaming with amusement. 

_Great._

“He’s helping me with the case,” Geralt explained, hoping that would be enough.

The guard with the more awe-struck eyes looked remorsefully at him, and  _something else._ Geralt wrinkled his nose. “I am truly sorry, but we have strict orders.”

Regis' mouth twitched, which looked suspiciously like he was trying to desperately smother a laugh.

Geralt glared at him, as discreetly as he could. 

Regis blinked innocently back,  _too innocent_ , darting discrete, black eyes to the guard.

Geralt’s upper lip curled upwards in disgust, knowing what Regis was trying to imply. He was  _not_ going to use flowers and charm again like in the Bank. “Can’t you just –”

“Geralt, Gentlemen, if I’m allowed to intercede. I shall merely wait for the witcher’s return in the common grounds of the estate if my presence is unwanted,” Regis cut in smoothly, holding up a hand in the air, as if surrendering.

Geralt whisked his head around, looking befuddled at him, because this  _entire trip_  was for Regis to make a second opinion on the chambers.

“But -“ Geralt began, broking off when he noticed Regis’ intent expression, the determined eyes and the growing half-smirk on him, realizing the plan. Geralt cleared his throat, trying to be indifferent. “Fine. See you later.”

Peering over his shoulders, he saw Regis strolling idly towards the gardens and eventually disappeared from his vision. The guards raised their weapons and he passed through the doors into Syanna’s room, her body still lying on the bed in the same position as the guards shut the thick door behind him, shutting out almost all the sounds from the outside.

It didn’t take long before he spotted a familiar trail of dark, murky fog outside the window, obscuring the view and squeezing through the narrow gaps of the tightly bolted window.

One moment there was a large cloud of grey-black fog in the room and the other moment stood a more familiar, corporeal person with a smug smirk in front of him, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“Impressive, Regis. Always knew you were the one for dramatic entrances,” Geralt said wryly.

Regis tutted at him without any heat.

“ _’The witcher proclaims moments after he had threatened for a pass through the port, demanding access for his righteous ways_ ,” Regis narrated in a deeper voice, like a storyteller sharing the great adventures of the famous Geralt of Rivia, gathering his hands together to brush away residue dust from the chinks that had apparently followed along. “An act which was, as I shall inform you, bound to lead us to Her Grace if not for my more refined ways with you suddenly forgetting your ways in coquetry towards the helpful chap back there.”

Geralt snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Thanks bunches. Really saved my ass then,” Geralt said sarcastically and watched as Regis suddenly froze on the spot, staring intensely at the almost lifeless body on the bed. A somber and haunted expression on his face.

Geralt flickered his eyes between Regis and Syanna. “Regis?”

Regis just remained silent, never breaking the gaze from Syanna for a long moment.

“I thought distance would clear my mind, put some rational sense into me. Alas, I still feel no sympathy for her. Not even in her current condition,” Regis said, a few almost unnoticeable cracks along the seams of his voice.

Geralt lowered his head, a heavy feeling settling on his chest. “Killing your friends does that to you. Not simply something you forgive.”

Regis exhaled deeply, appearing suddenly too exhausted to even reply. “You mentioned you discovered the blood on the windowsill?”

“Yeah. Kinda far away from Syanna, but didn’t find anything else,” Geralt gestured towards the windows.

“Hm,” Regis sniffed the air as if he recognized something. “There is a rather peculiar scent in the room. A, I daresay, familiar scent? Scent of home, but I have a difficult time pinpointing the origins of it.”

Geralt frowned and leaned against the wall beside Syanna’s massive four-poster double-bed, arms crossed. “As in your current home or home before the Conjunction of Spheres?”

Regis went silent for a moment, his gaze pinned on the wall across from them.

“Before the Conjunction of Spheres,” Regis said evenly, almost emotionlessly, but Geralt could read between the words that he didn’t think anything here felt like a home.

His heart clenched, gaze dropping to the impeccable carpet.

“Could it be some sort of object?” Geralt continued.

“Perhaps,” Regis said, taciturn, and ambled forward to the windowsill, hovering above it in a crooked pose. “Though I do wonder why this was the sole spot with blood.”

“Maybe the vampire forgot to wipe its bloodstained teeth before it leaped out of the window,” Geralt said drily.

Regis pulled a face, even if his mouth split into a small, amused smirk.

“The blood is likely from a wound, Geralt. It strikes me as odd,” Regis scrutinized the window, before eventually turning his heel to face Geralt. “Nevertheless, what did you say about Syanna?”

“Got some small healing holes at the end of the neck last time I looked. Points to it being a vampire after all,” Geralt said.

Regis only hummed, as if distant, strolling across the room until he stood beside Syanna’s bed. He reached a hand towards her neck, stopping in front of her skin with fingers twitching restlessly, looking hesitative and indecisive, before he tipped her face.

A small, almost inaudible sharp intake of breath sounded from Regis.

“ _Geralt._ " Regis rasped, tone deadly serious. "These punctures are at least four weeks old. They cannot suffice as the sole explanation, nor responsible for this state if the masquerade ball was three weeks ago.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped over and snapped his eyes up. “Are you sure? Because that means -“

“The plot thickens once again,” Regis finished for him, not breaking eye contact with Syanna's wounds. “The blood undeniably belongs to a higher vampire along with the punctures, yet they are clearly older than the ball. And if the higher vampire is not responsible for her condition, then who?”

Geralt gritted his teeth. The situation just continued to grow more complex. “Kinda more curious why vampire blood was in the room to begin with. Can’t be a coincidence.”

“Indeed. It raises questions,” Regis agreed.

“What sorts of questions?” A new sardonic voice joined behind their backs.

Geralt whirled his head around, almost to make it crack.

Anna Henrietta sauntered into the room, her elegant, yellow dress stealing all the attention from the rest of the items in the room.

Geralt’s eyes widened.  _Shit._

Instinctively, he straightened his posture. He hadn't even bothered focusing on any sounds outside the room with the guards protecting the door, not letting anyone in, except, obviously, _the Duchess._

 _Dammit, of fucking course._  He should have known that the guards would notify the Duchess.

“Your Grace,” Geralt spluttered out.

Anna narrowed her eyes and pinned him with a pointed stare, before she dragged her gaze to regard Regis with even colder, calculating eyes.

“I can fairly say I did not expect your presence, Regis. Nor do I comprehend how you managed to bypass my guards who had stringent orders to not sanction access to anyone except the witcher,” She said scathingly, each word sharp enough to cut.

Regis stiffened, shoulders squaring back.

“Your Grace, a – allow me to explain –” Regis began, lifting his hand in the air.

“Another word and I shall explain the next course of action. For both of you,” She interrupted coldly, shutting Regis' stuttering mouth with a click.

She stared at Regis with an intense, penetrating gaze for several seconds, tension almost sparkling between them.

Regis just continued to keep his mouth firmly shut, gripping the satchel tighter with each straining second. 

Her nose wrinkled skeptically, only to sigh in defeat after a while. “I suspect the witcher has valid reasons for his actions, but I do prefer warnings to circumvent complications.”

Regis' shoulders seemed to slack a little.

“I – Of course, Your Grace. I apologize on the behalf of us both,” Regis stuttered, directing a slight bow with his head and avoiding too much lip movement.

Anna darted her icy stare between them.

“I trust you must have made startling discoveries if it one had to resort to burglary instead of waiting for my presence?” She questioned, failing to hide the sardonic tone in it.

Geralt shifted uncomfortably, knowing he had to give her something for his head to not roll from the gallows. “Case seems to be more complicated. The culprit might not be a vampire.”

Anna arched one disbelieving eyebrow.

“Yet you have reported discovered bite markings. Is it not what vampires leave on their victims? Or do I err on that piece of information as well on these beasts,  _the vampires?_ ” Anna said harshly, gesticulating wildly with her hands.

Geralt winched, and noticed how Regis flinched too at the word _beasts._

“They are too old, Your Grace. They are not responsible for Synna’s condition,” Regis explained calmly.

“Then how did they wind up there to begin with? Why do I have the feeling you are keeping essential information from me?” Anna asked, voice too saccharine to be genuine, eyes sparkling and narrowing dangerously.

“I dread we are incapable to answer those questions as of yet, but we may have picked up a trail,” Regis admitted.

She squinted her eyes at him. "What sort of trail?"

Regis seemed to hesitate for a moment, scraping on the satchel's strap.

“Pardon my insolence, but did Syanna prefer the company of a certain person during these past few months? Anyone she became particularly close to?” Regis inquired tentatively.

Geralt managed to just stifle the urge to whirl around, no idea where Regis was going with this.

Anna dropped her gaze to the marble floor of the palace and then twisted gracefully, sauntering to the windows. Her mouth compressed into a firm, worried line as she gazed solemnly over the city. Taut. Tense. _Why would she be tense?_

“None which comes easily to mind as a sole person. Yet she grew apprehensive the past month, tense. For a reason yet to be discovered. Nonetheless, I admit, she spent far more time in the streets of Beauclair than desired, away from the ducal court, during the last month too. Incognito. Of course, I advised against it with the possibility of people who might still, in the spur of the moment, try to liberate our lands from a cursed heiress. Though she appeared – content, I daresay. My heart did nothing to condemn it, I could not,” Her expression turned remorseful and distant, posture slumping, still not facing them. “Are you purposing a commoner did this?”

“Not an impossible theory,” Regis acknowledged. “She never divulged the location of these people?”

“Alas, no. I appointed guards to look after her, yet she always found a way to slip away from their grasp,” A tiny smile spread on her lips, fading when she turned around to face them again, the wild, powerful aura towering over them. “I suggest adhering to my wishes for the duration of this mission, reporting progress as they are made. I expect to hear answers, none of this sneaking around. I hired you, Geralt, for information, not burglary and scheming on your own. Do I make myself clear?”

Geralt stiffened at the tone, swallowing hard. “Perfectly, Your Grace.”

“Excellent. It is truly a pleasure to see you in these parts again, Regis. I only regret this reunion befell on less buoyant circumstances,” Anna Henrietta said politely, chin raised.

“As am I. May the next occasion bring more exultant news,” Regis replied equally eloquent, not revealing anything.

“Soon, I hope,” Anna said demandingly, her intertwined, white fingers tightening in front of her dress. “I cannot stay for long. However, I’ll be there if you ever need me. That I shall promise.”

Regis shifted slightly on the spot, uncomfortable.

“I suspect we ought to partake in departure as well, Geralt?” Regis turned to met Geralt’s eyes, intent. He knew that expression, he had seen in many other times. Regis was hiding something.

“Mhm, nothing left here to investigate,” Geralt agreed, wondering what the hell Regis had discovered.

Geralt directed a slow bow and turned to leave the room with Regis, making their way down the hill, hurried and silent, with Regis not saying anything. 

* * *

“You were hiding some information back there,” Geralt pointed out when they passed the bridge to the city, with almost no one around them.

“Bravo. Well done, astute even, I expected no less,” Regis praised wryly, tone fond. “I’m beginning to suspect Syanna knows the owner of the blood. Very well, in point of fact.”

Geralt blinked.  _What?_

“Are you suggesting she was fraternizing with a higher vampire? _Again?_ ” Geralt asked incredulously, hoping Regis was joking. He didn’t exactly have the best experience with Syanna trying to befriend higher vampires _. No one did._

“That, I cannot say. Though it is common practice among my brethren to engage in certain - Ah -“ Regis fidgeted, harrumphing delicately in his hand. " _Biting behavior_  during intercourse."

Geralt stopped walking, staring in disbelief at Regis.

“Are you serious?” Geralt blurted out.

“Dead serious,” Regis said easily and stopped too, peering over his shoulder. “It would explain the biting marks, carefully positioned at the end of her neck, a symbol of ownership. Feeding markings are far more vicious, less deliberate, and wider.”

Geralt’s stomach dropped, walking briskly to catch up with Regis. “So what, Syanna’s lover popped in to look how she was doing? Leaving a gift of blood on the windowsill as a get-well token?”

Regis smirked. “If so, then I need to revise my knowledge on the new, jovial trends of wooing among our youth. However, the previous hypothesis is a plausible scenario indeed. I think it is high time to visit this vampire.”

Geralt stared befuddled at him. “Forgot that we still have to figure out a way to find this vampire. Gonna use the blood or what?”

“All in due course, Geralt. All in due course,” Regis said enigmatically, bringing up his hood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I created a fireplace and a window downstairs in Corvo Bianco. They renovated it further in my fic. Sh shh


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt found himself standing in the middle of an intersection, facing a darker alley in-between some huge houses, tall enough to make his neck crack when he tried to find the top of the buildings. Panes coated with several layers of dirt, vines growing wildly on the balconies. It was still the wealthier part of the city, but the facade had seen better days in this particular part, because there were several cracked spots all over the place. He raised an eyebrow at Regis who had abruptly stopped at this precise spot.

“Trying to lure me into dark alleys to have your wicked ways with me? Why, Regis, could have just said,” Geralt said dryly, staring at Regis who had been silent and contemplating something for a while now, not giving any explanation as they had meandered through the streets, grasping onto some kind of transparent, flat glasslike-box.

Regis flashed him a lopsided smirk.

“And lose the enigmatic touch to it?” Regis tsk’ed at him, looking disappointed. “I thought you knew me better than that Geralt.”

Geralt snorted while Regis continued whatever he was doing.

“Really though, are you gonna tell me sometime today what are we are doing? Or are you trying to discreetly tell me I need more exercise in my retirement?” Geralt said and folding his arms over his chest, keeping an eye on a few muscle-heavy men on the other side of the street. Several tattoos marked their dirtied skin. They had been staring nastily at them for quite a while now, following all of their movements.

" _Well -_  " Regis eyed him head to toe.

Geralt huffed at the tone. "Fuck off."

Regis discreetly huffed in amusement and stepped closer to him, bringing forth the transparent glass container. An eager expression plastered on his face.

“This, Geralt, is a Petri Dish. A good friend of mine is working on a rather peculiar invention which observes life on a microbiological level. Thus, with our frequent correspondence, I received a few samples from his inventions which I in turn thought could be of use,” Regis explained, scrutinizing the Petri Dish closely as he shifted it through various angles.

Geralt threw him a puzzled look. “Micro-what?”

“A trifle," Regis said, waving a dismissive hand. "What is important is the blood I’ve placed in the center of the Petri Dish, trailing the tilting of the blood to find the host. It is serving as, by your own terms, a compass,” He continued and returned to his position near the alley, apparently seeing some sort of trail.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile. He liked this version of Regis much better than the somewhat somber and lost version he had found in the cottage.

“Never seen such sharp nails,” One of the guys from the group behind them suddenly murmured.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, clenching his fists and glancing over his shoulders, and sent them a glare.

“Probably a mutant. Fuckin’ mutants all over the place these days. Brings bad luck,” A dirty, younger man with sand-colored hair said, spitting in their direction. “Heard Novigrad burned them like vermin. Like one should.”

Geralt’s nostrils flared and turned around to face them all, barely resisting the urge to leap at them.

“And I’ll give you a souvenir too if you don’t shut up,” He growled in response, so fucking tired of all this non-human cleansing shit. They had no idea what they were talking about.

“Ooh, did you hear that boys? The other mutant is givin’ us a true fright now!” The man sneered and his comrades laughed with him, cutting the last thread of Geralt's temper. He took a step forward when a warm, pale hand wrapped around his wrist, pointy nails digging gently into his skin.

“Geralt, they are not worthy of your time, nor energy,” Regis said lowly in his ear, wafts of warm exhalation hitting his ear. Geralt felt his taut muscles loosen.

“Listen to ye’ freak friend. Go and take your abnormalities to somewhere it’s appreciated. My guesses would be in the woods with the monsters, ploughing some beast like your sharp-nailed friend’s cunt father did,” The same man shouted at their retreating steps and the others howled with raucous laughter.

Geralt snapped, making a full-body turn.

“That’s it. Tried the nice way, but you are obviously too thick to understand it,” He spat, dislodging so quickly from the grasp around his wrist that Regis never got the opportunity to interrupt before Geralt had crossed the street and struck the muscle-heavy man’s face. The man staggered back from the powerful hit and traced his blood-stained mouth from a split lip with his hand, staring wide-eyed at him.

Geralt stared back with his slithered, yellow cat-eyes bursting with fury.

Spitting saliva mixed with blood on the ground, the more able-bodied man began an upward trajectory with his fist. Geralt dodged it, exploiting the open and unprotected area of the torso by lunging his fist at the man’s rib-cage. But instead of being temporarily stunned, the man charged like a roaring bull towards him. Geralt protected himself from the first hit by raising his arm, but the second assault went straight to his stomach, resulting in a cheerful roar from the group of men around them and an inaudible gasp from Geralt at the sudden pain. Another attack was heading towards his face and he raised his arm to deflect it, but before the man even managed to hit him, it was seized in midair. Then the man was abruptly hauled away from Geralt in such a speed that he could barely follow it.

Regis stood in the middle of the street, grasping the man's wrist tightly.

“I reckon that is quite enough,” Regis said threateningly, voice accompanied by a melodious undertone. Dark shades stretched to the corner of his eyes, glimmering with a strange and memorizing sort of red. The man grunted slightly in pain at the grip around his wrist, threatening to snap the bones. But the man didn’t appear to do anything about it, just staring into those riveting, black-red eyes just like the other men in the background, tantalized.

Geralt almost felt dazed, tired, as if the world wasn't quite real, but then Regis released the hold on the man’s wrist and everything was back to normal. The men blinked perplexedly at them as if they didn't really know where they were.

“C’mon. Let's get out of here,” The gang of men in the background murmured, way too pliable and eyes still hazy, the muscle-heavy man in front of him following them without a complaint.

 _Vampire manipulation,_  Geralt realized, staring incredulously at Regis. To use that in the middle of the bloody streets where others could see them, even if they were almost alone in the street beside the previous men and some laborers in the distance. _What had Regis been thinking?_

Regis shook his head at the sight, tsking, not caring that he had just used his abilities in the middle of the street.  _In broad daylight._

“Aah, you humans never cease to amaze me _._  All the hollering, brawling and demolishing each other’s faces to maintain your honor and reputation. So much work for so little,” Regis derided, completely composed despite his angry stance just a second ago.

“Well, humans gotta show they are the biggest, baddest assholes on the planet, win in something,” Geralt said wryly, feeling the pain in his stomach dissipate.

Regis lifted an eyebrow at him. “Do I detect a note of slandering your own brethren in the proclamation?”

Geralt snorted, bitter. If only.

“Not a human. Mutations, remember?” Geralt said as he gestured over himself. Regis stared quizzically at him.

“Aah,  _of course._  And do tell me, does the long-haired Temerian bloodhound change species when it is bred to inhabit certain characteristics? I'll save you from answering that, because no, it does not. The same applies to you, Geralt,” Regis said softly.

Geralt huffed in a scoff, but the bitter taste on his tongue was disappearing. “Some would argue with you. The same people who say you are a monster.”

Regis' eyes twinkled at him.

“Indeed, as they have not embraced their more philosophical side, and thus not using their brains’ utter potential. Utter shame, that one is,“ Regis stated in a veiled tone of mockery. “Nonetheless, no euphemism is required. You needn’t seek one. Am I, in the most polite terms, a  _‘monster’_. I daresay that I am quite accustomed to the various and imaginative categorical terms for it after four-hundred years.”

Geralt gritted his teeth. Regis was many things; overly emphatic, scholarly with immense pleasure to educate the unfairly deprived of knowledge, kind, sarcastic. But never in the range of a vicious, cruel and blood-sucking monster. He should know after the amount he had faced them. Most of them humans. Regis was the opposite to the representation of the stereotypical vampire that preyed on virgin’s blood and shredded humans apart like cattle. Even if Regis had done that in his younger years as a rebel rouser. But hell, Regis had even voluntarily become a surgeon and healer in various cities to help regular humans on a daily basis. That was more than most humans could say.

“Doesn’t mean that you should be accustomed to it. You’re not a monster, Regis. Hell, most humans deserve that title much more than you,” Geralt finally said, honest.

Regis looked stunned and speechless for a second.

“I – I - Hm -” Regis stuttered at first, looking insecure, before he looked directly at Geralt. Regis' face broke into the same strange glint he had seen in the cottage and the guest room, but he didn’t try to veil it this time. A beaming, affectionate gaze that softened the corner of his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt’s heart thumped, quickly averting his gaze.

“C’mon. We got a vampire to find,” Geralt said, walking towards the dark alley.

* * *

“Any chance the blood might be tricking us?”

“None,” Regis said simply.

Geralt could only sigh, trailing a few meters behind Regis. It seemed odd to trace a higher vampire to the higher and nobler parts of Beauclair, but the blood couldn’t lie. It didn’t really have the capacity for it. He hoped. He didn’t really know much about higher vampire blood.

Suddenly Regis halted in front of a building with a heavy layer of red parget, amidst a long line of tall and decorative houses in the higher streets of Beauclair. Sounds of flutes, guitars and traditional Toussaint instruments could be heard in the distance, accompanied by crowds of people in well-designed clothing and elegant postures, socializing on the cobblestones. Geralt wrinkled his nose, reminding him a bit too much of tight attires and formal occasions.

He turned his head back to Regis, opening his mouth to ask what the hell was going on when Regis suddenly turned into a trail of fog, disappearing into the neighboring, yellow house to the right.

A wave of panic flared in his gut.

Geralt made an instinctive move towards the fog, but it was already too late. Regis was gone.

He inwardly cursed.  _Where the hell did he go?_

He whisked his head around to see if someone had noticed the suspicious sight of a man unexpectedly vanishing into thin air, but no one was paying attention to them. They were too busy with hollow conversations, snobby attires and fanning themselves in the heated sun apparently.

He glared at the veiled and obscure windows, not knowing if anyone inside had seen it. Although, the more annoying fact was that he had to track down  _two_  higher vampires now.

Geralt groaned, almost considered to buy a necklace with a bell for Regis.

He sighed again. Vampires and their tendency to spontaneously take things into their own hands.

Geralt walked to the doorstep of the house which Regis had stared at before for a long time, rattling on the doorknob.

Locked.

The windows seemed to be bolted tightly to the windowsills as well. Which was odd. Most houses, including his, had a few windows open to ventilate the buildings or they would turn into saunas during midday. 

He glared suspiciously at the door as if it would magically start spewing out answers, reaching to grasp the handle again, about to try out his lock-picking skills, when the door was suddenly pulled towards the inside of the house.

_Fuck._

Eyes widening and preparing a long line of shitty excuses, he found a pale, middle-aged man with a sharp row of fangs to meet him on the other side.

“My, no bellowing and barging through the door? Well, well, there might yet be hope for your refinement,” Regis said, elegantly half-bowing with his arm lifted into the air as a welcome gesture into the foreign house.

Geralt scowled half-heartedly. “Think you could warn me next time before taking off?”

Regis looked up with shrewd eyes, straightening the pose. “I assumed this was a better option to open burglary. Thus rest assured, I would never deny myself of your exceedingly charming company without a fair cause.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at Regis who skirted around the question rather than answering it clearly, heaving a deep sigh.

“So, this the place we’re looking for?” Geralt asked instead, trying to get a glimpse of the room behind Regis. A dim setting with no tapers or open doors, as if someone hadn’t been here for a while to maintain it.

“According to the blood, then indeed. It tugs to this very construction, regardless of the direction around the estate,” Regis replied, still holding tightly to the little Petri Dish.

“Then let’s look around,” Geralt said, side-stepping Regis to get into the antechamber.

“Wait, Geralt,” Regis gripped his wrist, nails tipped slightly into his flesh. “A higher vampire resides within this estate. Be careful.”

Geralt opened his mouth, a sardonic reply on his tongue, but the words died when he met Regis' narrowed, grave eyes.

He looked away, his heart skipping a beat. “I know, but same applies to you. Don’t want another Vilgefortz scenario.”

“That makes two of us,” Regis replied.

Geralt walked into the building’s foyer, listening in the murky, mostly silent house. No sign of activity.

The antechamber was filled with chairs, small tables and gilded mirrors. There were two pairs of stairs on both sides of the hall, leading to the second level of the house. Regis strolled beside him, passing the mirrors with just his clothes reflecting in them. Which was still a bit unnerving. It didn't really make sense when higher vampires were corporal. At least vampires' clothes still cast a shadow and reflection, probably because they weren’t a part of their bodies. Perhaps it had something to do with vampires' evolution, a camouflage. No traces of them on most surfaces, making them almost impossible to track.

_The impeccable predator._

“Sense anything out of the ordinary?” Geralt asked out in the eerily silent house.

Regis took a deep, soundly inhale through his nose, stopping in the middle of the corridor.

“I cannot readily tell. Several scents circulate with each other. I do, however, smell blood. Quite a lot of it in fact,” Regis stated grimly, strolling again, towards a large, wooden door at the end of the long corridor with gilded details on the frames.

“Regis, wait-“ Geralt began, groaning in frustration when Regis disappeared from his sight again.

“Geralt. I think we have stumbled upon something incredibly grave,“ Regis said suddenly in a gruff voice.

Geralt perked up in concern, taking brisk steps to the room.

“What do you -“ Geralt stopped, freezing on the spot when he walked into the room.

His eyes widened.

The wooden walls were covered by a dark, red color over a rather faint off-white tapestry. Long elongated claw marks stretched over the walls, pillars and the floor. Furniture spread across the room in an uncoordinated manner. As if the furniture had been thrown at someone,  _or some people_. Papers were scattered around the floors and paintings askew, wind whistling through the small cracks of the windows and walls. Atmosphere dead.

_What the hell?_

Geralt walked to the closest wall, staring at the suspiciously red color, which shifted into various tones depending on the thickness of the layer. He ran a finger across the wall, feeling the sticky and thick substance cling onto his finger.

 _Blood._  Lots of it. It covered the entire room.

“Blood on the walls. Mostly dried up. Seems like there was a rough fight here some time ago,” Geralt stated, the thick and cloying smell of dried blood almost making him gag.

Regis stepped closer to him. Closer than necessary, radiating heat despite the several layers of clothes between them. Geralt could even feel the warm puffs of air from Regis which re-bounced on the wall before them, tickling the surface of his face.

Sniffing at the thick coat of body fluid, Regis's grip over the satchel's strap tightened, eyes half-lidded.

“Indeed, but the scent is very vague. The rather musty trace suggests around three to four weeks of age, which further implies that whatever occurred in this place must have taken place right before the ball. A peculiar coincidence, don’t you think?” Regis said solemnly and turned his head, closing the distance between them even more.

Geralt's heart quickened.

Mind whirling, Geralt quickly turned his face away, frowning at the proximity and the pounding blood.

“Can you pick out the origins of the blood?” Geralt went on.

Regis' nose twitched, face scrunching up. “Hm. Dried blood is more difficult to categorize, even with my astute sense of smell, and the odor is rather perplexing. There are two distinct scents mingling with each other. A combination of two creatures most likely.”

“The vampire as one of them?” Geralt asked, turning to face Regis again.

“Not impossible. I seldom observe my kin leave markings unless their opponent can compete with their powers. Which are, as you know, few,” Regis replied ominously.

Geralt lips tensed into a worried line, taking in the details of the room. Most of it didn’t give him any other clues with the blood covering most of the objects.

“Must have been several of them, judging by the amount of blood on the walls,” Geralt concluded, taking a step back.

Regis' forehead crinkled. “Not necessarily. An adult human-shaped creature can contain up to five liters of blood. Thus, the proper question rather lingers on if one of the creatures was completely disposed here or not. I can fairly conclude such is not the case with the higher vampire, or we would observe the process of reattachment or regeneration in this very room.”

“No signs of severed body parts in the room either,” Geralt professed, scanning the area for chunks of flesh. “Although, the parts could have been taken away or they are in another room.“

Geralt crossed his arms over his chest.

Why the hell didn't they find any shreds of tissue along with this amount of blood? There should be something. Unless - _Several creatures were involved._ It would explain the amount of blood. Several creatures against a higher vampire, getting injured in the process. It would also explain the markings on the walls. A lesser vampire might also have been preying on a regular human family that lived here. Although, only Fleders and Ekimmas were this brutal to their victims, but they weren’t as intelligent as their cousins, the higher vampires. Not even close. To target a specific human family in the middle of the city? It didn't add up.

The deep, long grooves on the walls stared tauntingly back at him, because higher vampires weren't sloppy. Higher vampires were fast, quick and lethal. They rarely missed, rarely preyed on their victims in the middle of towns and rarely shred their victims to pieces (never according to Regis, besides rogues).

“Newfound fondness for blood-covered walls, my friend?” Regis derisively inquired.

Geralt blinked, catching Regis staring at him. He shook his head. “Still can’t figure out why they would fight in this house. Quite the coincidence for a higher vampire to fight in a house in the middle of Beauclair. Seems quite risky no matter the cause behind it. Someone would have heard. These parts are always crowded with people.”

Regis nodded, face taut.

“That would prove quite some coincidence indeed. I’ve my theories, none which can be drawn at the moment,” Regis responded enigmatically, walking away from the wall.

Geralt eyed him quizzically, but Regis didn't offer anything else. Sighing, he crouched to balance on his feet to get a better look on the floor. Nothing really caught his interest save for some floor planks with a slightly lighter color than the rest of them, which continued towards the direction of another room.

“Something heavy was dragged across the floor. Towards the back of the house,” Geralt proclaimed and pointed at the lighter color on the wooden planks, listening as Regis walked across the room to stand beside him. 

“Someone wishing to be discrete with whatever they transported from this estate. The limbs of the body, perhaps?” Regis contributed.

“Maybe. No blood trail though,” Geralt pointed out.

Regis merely hummed and wandered around in a seemingly aimless manner, gaze flickering around before he stopped before a bureau. Seizing something to place it in his hand, Regis fixed his stare on the object.

Geralt rose from his position to get a better look, watching as Regis continued to twirl it between his fingers.

“This - This is no ordinary amulet. Molded from one of the metals from our true home. The gem is called ‘Vareznac’, which is loosely translated to ‘Luck bearer’ in your common tongue,” Regis announced, impassive. The metal had a glossier, darker color than other metals on this planet, while the dark green gem glimmered with faint turquoise stripes in the light.

Geralt’s eyebrows rose, catching some similar twinkles in the other corner of the room. He crossed the room until he was in front of them, finding several similar amulets scattered around another bureau that had been tossed, lying on the side. Each with their own unique jewel. Three of them in total.

“There are several of them over here,” Geralt informed Regis, quickly manifesting beside him.

Regis' lips drew into a more tense line.

“Which fortifies my theory. There is no doubt, nor coincidence, I believe a higher vampire lives here,” Regis stated gravely.

Geralt frowned. “A higher vampire living here? In a town populated with humans? Thought you didn’t meddle in human affairs.”

“Rarely. Though, as it appears to have slipped your mind, there are exceptions such as Orianna and of course, me,” Regis reminded him.

Geralt stared questionably at him. “Thought your kin preferred the company of your brethren though.”

“Most of us do, agreed. Yet, we are merely a handful in comparison to you humans. Not much choice than to assimilate ourselves with you or shut ourselves off from the world with the portal slammed shut to our true home,” Regis said with a vague, grim undertone.

A sudden crash sounded in the room next to them.

Geralt whisked his head around, reaching for his silver sword on his back and taking slow, muffled steps towards the room. Regis elongated his claws, trailing right beside him. 

Passing gradually through the door to the next room, he swirled his head around. But it was only dark. Complete darkness until his eyes adjusted to the setting. Nothing prominent protruded in the room. Nothing that would indicate the source of the noise.

A sudden obscure object flashed before Geralt’s eyes and a small, distorted face with blood-stained teeth erupted in front of his face.

“ ** _Geralt!_** ” Regis shouted desperately, extending his claws and fangs further, trying to reach for him.

Geralt jumped back, drawing up a protective stance with his sword in midair. The silver weapon grazed the creature’s exposed throat for a second before it jumped back, making another stance to launch again at a different angle, but Regis flew in front of Geralt, bared his razor-sharp fangs and hissed viciously.

The creature instantly flinched and retreated back, breathing vehemently in boisterous gasps of air.

A scent of iron and earth suddenly stuck out from the otherwise stalled air.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at the creature, distinguishing the shape of a child. A boy with shoulder-length raven-black hair and distorted face like a higher vampire, with also a broad, see-through wound at the right side of his stomach, blood dripping from it.

Geralt’s eyes softened, lowering his weapon. The boy tracked the silver sword with enthralling ice-blue eyes, claws occasionally twitching as if he expected Geralt to strike at any moment. Upper lip curled back to reveal sharp incisors as a warning, the body shivering furiously on the spot. If it was a human, Geralt would guess him to be between seven to ten years old judging by the height.

He approached the boy slowly, but Regis raised his elongated claws and stared bewilderedly at him.

Throwing a pointed look at him, Geralt tried to get closer. Only to be pushed him back by Regis, hissing at him and shaking his head before Regis himself closed the distance to the boy.

The boy snarled at Regis, shifting his gaze between them without lashing out. Occasional spasms emerged on the boy's face, not revealing anything else, showing no vulnerability.

Suddenly a rather large spasm ran through him and the boy fell onto the floor, clutching the wound that bled more profusely now.

Regis and Geralt took brisk steps towards him, but the boy growled and tried to crawl backwards.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. Not here to hurt you,” Geralt said slowly, but the boy continued to crawl away from them. Regis shrank his fangs and claws, putting a hand up in the air for Geralt.

Geralt sighed and waved his hand, letting Regis walk alone towards the boy.

The boy inhaled sharply when Regis bent down to his level, only a meter from him.

“Stay a - away -“ A raspy, high-pitched voice emitted from the boy’s throat, vibrating with fear. Which was odd, with higher vampires not being able to feel fear.

Regis interrupted with a hushing noise and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “We are here to help. Nothing else.”

“But h - he -“ The boy’s eyes wandered anxiously over Geralt.

“I swear you will not be harmed as long as I stand there,” Regis said in a deep, reassuring tone. “You see, this kind gentleman, only wants to know what happened here.”

The penetrating eyes shifted between them, the anxious lines still prominent on him, clearly not buying it. 

“What happened here?” Geralt asked, gentler now, putting his sword in the hilt.

The boy lowered his gaze to the blood-covered floor, turning silent and studying fixedly at it. The sclera was brimming with red stripes, wide and vulnerable.

The boy shook his head and lifted his gaze to the roof, black bangs veiling his eyes.

“T - they - They took them a - all. I - I couldn’t -” The boy croaked, stopping momentarily, the inhalation more ragged as if each breath wasn't enough.

Geralt looked flummoxed at him.  _Taken them? Family? Higher vampires or humans?_

“Take your time. There is no need to rush it,” Regis reassured.

The boy paused and gave him a long considering look, the eyes red and haunted, flickering anxiously over the entire room. “S-some men- They- came in here-”

“What sort of men? Humans? Vampires?” Geralt probed tentatively.

“Dunno. I was reading in my room a - and there was this weird scent I didn’t know - and then -“ The boy whisked his head away, fluttering viciously with his eyelashes, eyes becoming more reflective, glassy. “Then - Mom told me to hide - but they -“ He stopped, his voice thick with tears. “They took them all- Took me too in a weird bag, but dad freed me and told me to run. I - I shouldn’t h - have - Now they - they are all -” He outburst in uncontrollable tears, clenching painfully to his wound.

Geralt’s heart clenched helplessly. 

 _Shit._  An entire family of higher vampires apparently abducted. But why? _And how?_

Regis' face softened, nodding as if he had made a decision.

“No need to continue. You did good work, lad. We have gathered enough information for now,” Regis interceded, reaching out to lay a hand on the boy, when the boy’s eyes suddenly rolled into his head and the limp body fell towards the floor.

Regis caught the body with his hands and Geralt rushed to the scene, blood pouring from the wound.

The flesh inside of the body barely connected. No regeneration. 

“Shit. He’s still bleeding quite heavily. Is it supposed to do that with your regeneration ability?” Geralt asked, searching his armor for any kind of piece that could be used as a bandage, finding nothing besides chains, potions and bombs.

“No,” Regis stared dewy-eyed at the laceration, tearing a piece of his own clothing and winding it around the boy's body. “Something is decelerating the process.”

Geralt froze and looked ferociously at Regis.

“Never heard or read about that being possible,” Geralt said, bewildered.

“Neither have I,” Regis replied shortly, staring up with tense and agitated eyes. “This is serious, Geralt. If there is suddenly a solution to decelerate our natural regeneration process and higher vampires being abducted from their very own homes -“

“Then we are dealing with something much more complicated,” Geralt finished for him.

“And far more devilishly dangerous,” Regis pointed out while he dug out the Petri Dish in his satchel. Regis' mouth tightened at the sight. “What is even more concerning, this young man is the host to the blood.”

Geralt raised one quizzical eyebrow, flickering his eyes between the boy and Regis. “This kid? Are you certain?”

“Deadly,” Regis said without hesitation.

Geralt stared at the boy who turned paler by each second. Dark, glimmering hair dangled from his head, death-pale skin, and teeth that were more human-like. Not even the teething spell had begun yet.

“Well, can’t just leave him here,” Geralt said.

Regis nodded. “Agreed. Corvo Bianco appears as our best option.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Anything new about his condition? Any better?” Geralt asked as he leaned against the wall of the guest room, feeling exhausted after waiting almost 12 hours for some kind of news, some change to the condition.

The guest room looked more like the home of an alchemist with all the books and medical instruments scattered all around the room, herbs hanging on the shelves, with Regis sitting on a stool beside the bed with the boy on top of it.

Regis looked up at him, solemn and troubled. “Far from ideal, but indeed, it is better. The laceration is finally mending. Perhaps the enigmatic substance which created this condition is waning in its effect.”

Damn. Not even witchers had been able to find a solution de-accelerate a higher vampire's regeneration, even less kill. Their best option was still to spread the body parts to postpone the resurrection.

“Any guess what the enigmatic substance might even be?” Geralt continued and closed the distance stand next to Regis, looking down at the still, sweating body.

“None, alas. Nothing to even suggest an injection of the substance either,” Regis said gravely. “Furthermore, I shan’t make much progress without an uncontaminated sample of the substance. In which the current one is entangled with the lad’s own fluids. Unfit for making final conclusions, alas.”

Geralt let out a deep breath, eyes dipping shut for just a second. Still no leads.

“Guess we just gotta ask him then. See if he knows anything,” Geralt suggested, staring at the almost lifeless body. No movements, not even his chest, as if he didn’t breathe, but then again higher vampires didn't need air, eyes shut against the bright light in the room. “Think he’ll even wake up soon?”

Regis grimaced, wrinkles gathering around his nose.

“I cannot say. We, as you know, do not sleep. It’s far more akin to a witchers’ meditative state if anything if we decide to rest. Therefore, this type of unconscious state, whatever it is, is rather – new, unnerving,” Regis gathered a wet cloth from a bowl on the night table and wiped off the sweat on the boy’s forehead, not even as much of a twitch from the contact. “Though he has regained a far more healthy tone across his skin, so yes, I wager he will awaken soon.”

Geralt stared at the bleary eyes and the slackened posture, clearly fatigued.

“You know, could just shift with me so you could stretch your legs. Or wings. Whatever you vampires do. Rest your eyes for a bit.”

Regis placed the wet cloth in the bowl again. “And what would you precisely do if he woke up, no doubt in a state of panic and possibly lash out in form of a defensive mechanism?”

“Uh –“ Geralt said intelligently. “Dunno. Calm him down somehow? Ask him nicely to spare my life?”

Regis chortled and looked up at him, crinkling the skin around his eyes.

“Mm, yes, as potent as _nicely_ uttering ‘stop tearing me into shreds if you would be ever so kind’ to an enraged higher vampire. It will do fine indeed,” A discrete, amused sound emitted from Regis’ throat before he shifted in his chair, facing the boy again. “No, I shall stay in case complications should arise. Younger vampires are still perilous to strong and astute witchers such as yourself.”

Geralt repressed a sigh. _Regis and his stubborn selflessness_. “Guess I’ll just meditate then. Wake me up if anything happens.”

“Of course, I shall just research in the meantime then,” Regis said, reaching for a few tomes, with the casing dried and dust covering the tips.

Geralt regarded them for a moment, quizzical, before finding a chair in the corner to sit on, shutting his eyes.

* * *

Geralt roused when something ran through his snow-white hair and skin, shooting his eyes wide-open to find the floor staring dully back at him. He knitted his eyebrows together, he didn't remember opening any windows.

Blinking blearily at his surroundings, a wide, fanged leer greeted him in his peripheral vision, which quickly twisted into something more neutral and innocent when Geralt met Regis’ eyes. 

Geralt cocked an eyebrow.

“Any particular reason why you decided to give me such a nice wake-up call?” Geralt drawled accusingly.

Regis tsk'd at him, waggling an index finger back and forth. “You need further proof for such discreditable accusations. Some argue a man is innocent until indisputable evidence proves the very opposite.”

“Mhm. Even higher vampires who leave no traces behind?” Geralt said drily.

“Why, even more so! Otherwise everyone would frame us for every trifle,” Eyes twinkled at him before they turned more serious. “He appears to be on the edge of conscious –”

The boy suddenly jerked sharply, inhaling a deep and boisterous breath as if coming back to life, eyes wide open all of the sudden. He almost threw his upper body up, but halted midway and threw his arms around his stomach, clutching around the wound with a pained expression.

“Easy now. Your wound has yet to heal properly, but I wager it’s soon getting there,” Regis said softly, leaning forward.

The bleary and distant gaze sharpened, flickering anxiously all around the room and over them. Eyebrows knitted together.

“W-where-?” The boy croaked and lifted quickly a hand to his mouth, coughing up spots of blood into his hands.

Regis grasped a green-muddled glass with a thick liquid and offered it in the air.

The boy screwed up his nose and looked suspicious at it before the gaze traveled to Regis’ sharp nails, the posture and tense wrinkles dropping. He grabbed the glass with both of his hands and drank it until there was nothing left, slightly shivering in aversion.

“Corvo Bianco, an estate outside of Beauclair,” Regis said and took the empty glass from his hands, placing it on the nightstand. “How are you feeling? Better?”

The boy nodded hesitantly, still grasping firmly around his stomach and squinting his eyes on them. Shoulders tensioned upwards again.

“Good. Though I advise against excessive movements. Your wound will likely be sore for a few more days. Perhaps even weeks,” Regis instructed and leveled the boy with a scrutinizing gaze. “What is your name?”

The boy opened his mouth, before closing it again, seemingly considering a million things at once. “J-Joseff. Joseff Vernac-Ozerie Zarachieve.”

“Well then Joseff, this is an important question so pay attention. Do you know what you ate or drank shortly before this slowed regeneration?” Regis asked, serious.

_Shouting. Blood mixed with the new thick scent. There was a commotion in the living room. A dark, tall figure suddenly loomed over him. Panic. Pain._

Joseff’s forehead creased, staying silent for a moment.

“A scent. Some new scent and fog disorientated us. Don’t remember much after that. A bag and something sharp pierced through my skin. Then I was freed and I ran, like my dad told me to,” Joseff said after a while, voice hoarse and raw.

_“Run! Don’t look back. Just run!” A taller, lean man, his father, shouted at him as his father was being hauled away from him._

“Pierced? By what? Fangs? Needles?” Geralt probed, puzzled. He had barely even heard something being able to even get that near a higher vampire to pierce their skin, unless if it was voluntarily or a witcher.

Joseff stared helplessly at them and shook his head.

“Dunno. I - I’m sorry,” Joseff’s eyes grew forlorn again, anxious lines growing on his forehead. He attempted to get up, with the pained expression spreading across his face. “I - I need to get back. I must find Evelyn -“

Geralt snapped upright from his chair and rushed forward, holding his hands up in the air.

“Woah, easy there kid. Don’t think you are ready to walk anywhere,” Geralt said, decreasing the distance between them. “Best you can do right is to tell us what happened so we can find your parents.”

Joseff suddenly froze, clenching a hand on the soft sheets underneath him.

“That would be pointless,” Joseff said flatly, a blank surface covering his face, devoid of emotions. Eyes revealed nothing. Highlights and shadows flared on his face, dark straws of hair running down on his cheeks and forehead.

“What? Why?” Geralt frowned.

“Because they’re dead,” Joseff announced bluntly, voice completely emotionless.

Geralt’s heart dropped and darted quick eyes over to Regis, suddenly all pale and frozen in a perfect imitation of a statue, wondering what the hell he meant by that. Higher vampires didn’t exactly just _die._

“Can’t know that for sure. No sign of that so far. Could just be imprisoned somewhere,” Geralt said gently.

“Geralt -“ Regis cut in, voice low and serious, but was interrupted by Joseff voice that trembled all of the sudden.

“N - no. You d - don’t - They - they are dead. I c - can’t feel them -“ Joseff stopped and wretched away his head to the side, fluttering his eyelashes furiously with tears streaking down the cheeks.

Geralt’s heart leaped unpleasantly, eyebrows knitting together.  _What? Can’t feel them? Some vampiric connection?_

He looked down, seeing sadness clouding Regis’ face.

 _Shit._ That couldn’t be a good thing.

“What does that mean?” Geralt whispered in a more subdued voice, even if it was pointless. Higher vampires and their astute hearing.

Regis’ lips tightened, lowering his head.

“It means that the bonds have been ruptured,” Regis replied tensely.

His chest tightened, feeling the blood drain from his face. _Dammit._

Geralt took a deep breath. “You sure?“

Regis sighed resignedly, meeting his eyes. “Kin, families and such among higher vampires, have what we shall call blood-bonds. And to make a long story short, imagine your arm being severed from you. You are bound to feel it. Particularly in the beginning. The same applies for these blood-bonds. Only severed by death.”

Cold dread seeped through all of him, as if ice-cold water had been thrown over his head. “But only another vampire can kill -“

“Precisely,” Regis interrupted grimly.

Geralt screwed up his face. To be able to kill higher vampires. That couldn’t be a good thing.

He flickered his eyes to Joseff. His face glistened from all the tears, cheeks wet, taking a few subtle, sharp gasps of air as if he was trying to control himself. Geralt suddenly felt helpless and wretched.

“Did you feel the same with-?” Geralt stopped himself, realizing what he was asking and immediately regretting that he had said anything.

There was a long tense second.

“I did. I do,” Regis said without further explanation, vague, suppressed emotions flitting over his face, and pulled a rueful breath.

Geralt cast down his eyes to the wooden floor, guilt trashing against his inner walls, not knowing what to even say. Words didn’t seem enough to even make up for even a little for all the things he had done, because of what he had chosen.

Regis sighed, drawing himself straight. “I believe we are in need of some nice, warm beverages. A dear old friend of mine used to say a hot drink is one of the few medicines to make the world appear a little brighter. If only for a moment. What do you say to that, Joseff?”

Joseff nodded sluggishly, still facing the wall.

Regis got to his feet and waved his hand when Geralt moved to follow him, disappearing out of the room and leaving him alone with Joseff. But it didn’t take long until Regis was back with a salver covered with a steaming black kettle and three mugs, and placed it on a table near the bed. Regis sauntered across the room with two of the steaming mugs, which smelled like lavender and lemon balm, handing one of them to Joseff.

Joseff looked up and took the offered cup with both of his hands, curling the fingers around the warm ceramic and occasionally wiping some of the tears from his face with the back of his hands.

Then Regis offered the other cup to Geralt.

Geralt just stared at it and grabbed it out of reflex. His expression must have very visibly said _‘What the hell am I supposed to do with it’_ , with Regis’ lips quirking into a smirk that said _‘I suggest drinking, but I suppose you do what you will with it.’_

“Who is this Evelyn you mentioned?” Regis asked softly, seating himself on the chair in front of the bed again.

Joseff sat in silence for a long while and stared intensely at the beverage, trails of hot steam hitting his face, a shade of healthy pink returning to his skin.

“My sister.” Joseff confessed eventually, cautious. “She wasn’t there during the attack since she was with Syanna. So - She survived. She is livid, because of the attack and then the scenario with Syanna. But alive.”

“Your sister had a relationship with Syanna?” Regis asked, more like a statement than a question.

Joseff’s mouth set into a hard line. “Shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said –“

“No, I rudely took the freedom to jump directly into private questions. I was wrong to press you,” Regis said, sending an apologetic smile. “However, we are here to help, which cannot be done without knowing the circumstances.”

Joseff looked away, some black bangs of hair covering his eyes.

“Yes. They did,” He began cautiously. “You see, they spent a lot of time together. Think they had a relationship, but they were never open with such things.”

Geralt released a sharp breath. It all suddenly clicked. “That why you were in Syanna’s room? Searching for your own sister as you thought she might have been there to check on Syanna’s condition?”

“I -I - Yes,“ Joseff stammered, nodding. “I tried to find Evelyn, before - um -” His eyes widened and suddenly shut his mouth.

Geralt locked his attention on Joseff. “Before what?”

Joseff fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, avoiding their eyes. “Uhm, I - I - don’t know -“

“The more details, the more we can help,” Regis reasoned patiently.

Joseff pulled in his legs and balanced the mug atop of them, almost to hide.

“Um - S - She thinks the Grace is behind the attack on us and Syanna. My sis said that the Grace knew about their relationship, but that she might have recently discovered that we were vampires. That she somehow tried to dispose of us and save Syanna, so sis planned to take revenge. Evelyn is normally kind, but something woke up in her, like a more bestial side,” Joseff broke off and tightened his grasp on the cup, scratching the knuckles with his pointy nails. “Please. Don’t hurt her. I know it sounds bad, but she is - She is all I got left.” He finished in a raspy, wretched voice, looking up at them with glassy eyes.

Regis face softened and lowered to Joseff's level, placing a hand over one of Joseff’s hand on the cup.

“Our sole task is to sort out things, which does not necessarily include harming, nor killing if there is another way,” Regis asserted.

"Yeah, just gotta find her and stop before anything happens," Geralt added softly, meaning it. “But what made your sister so sure it was the Duchess behind it?”

Joseff frowned at him. “Cuz the Grace isn’t fond of vampires after the slaughter of humans a few months ago. Sis said something that the Grace thought she would prevent another Dettlaff scenario, whatever that means. Might also be because humans think it’s bad with same-sex relationships, right?”

Regis and Geralt exchanged glances, intent and alarmed.

“Did your sister say when she was planning to take revenge on Anna Henrietta?” Geralt asked urgently, facing Joseff directly.

“At the ball of an upcoming festival. Don’t remember the date of it and I don’t know her exact plans. She didn’t tell me much. Except that she will repay with the same methods. She told me to stay put, regenerate, but I couldn’t do that - She -“ Joseff shook his head and swallowed hard, eyes brimming with red streaks.

“What is her current appearance? Clues where we should look?” Regis cut in, refocusing Joseff’s attention.

“N - no. I’ve been trying to find her, but I don’t think she wants to be found. Not even by me. But she looks like me. Black hair and blue eyes,” Joseff admitted, pointing at his own eyes and hair.

Regis nodded. “Good. We shall have a look and should be back forthwith, but do not hesitate to inform us if anything else in particular strikes your mind.”

Joseff turned his gaze down, voice trembling. “T - thank you. For everything. I don’t have much to offer, but -“

“Keep it, nothing you should worry about. Didn’t bring you here to get coin,” Geralt broke in, his heart twisting at the expression. 

Ice-blue eyes blinked, staring confusedly at him. “Why? Witchers always demand coin and I’m a monst-”

Regis cut him off with a raised hand.

“You see, despite his appearance to the contrary, this man bestows a very noble heart. It is within his very nature to straighten matters out such as these without even a fraction of a potential reward. All he asks in return is but for you to rest while we shall try to find your sister. You won’t deny him his desire to fulfill his nature, will you?” Regis asked eloquently and Joseff just shook his head. No damn wonder. Even Geralt had a trouble following him. Think there was a compliment in there somewhere. “There is plenty of beverage in the kettle shall you find yourself in need and if anything in particular strikes anew, just whisper to the ravens and I shall return forthwith.”

Regis threw Joseff a reassuring smile before he got to his feet, ushering Geralt along with him, practically dragging him out.

Geralt peered over his shoulder, a curl of worry slithering through his stomach.

“Sure we can just leave him? What if he escapes?” Geralt pointed out as he was dragged out of the house.

Regis huffed out an amused breath. “No. He would have already done so if he had so wished. Besides, I must restock a few of my medical supplies. A perfect opportunity to scrutinize the area for any black-haired maidens, don’t you think?”

* * *

“Damn. Sounds like Anna Henrietta might be involved somehow. Case just got a bunch more complicated, and don’t really feel like getting to know the gallows more intimately anytime soon,” Geralt said, watching the ravens above them that circled frantically all over Beauclair as they walked on the cobbled streets.

“Hm. Indeed, so it would seem. But then again, appearances can be deceiving. For the Duchess is many things. Charming, changing her mind oh-so-ever-often and fond of sentimental memoirs from a certain poet, but this on top of all that? No. I sincerely doubt it. There is no logic behind it. After all, she was the one to commission the case,” Regis reasoned under his hood. Geralt had no idea how he didn’t overheat.

“Could be a deceiving maneuver to fool the population to think she cares about Syanna though,” Geralt said. Even if he didn't that of Anna Henrietta, but other rulers had done worse for less.

Regis nodded shortly.

“It could, but then why hire a proficient witcher? To hire someone such as Damien would have been sufficient to satisfy the population with no obvious monster involved. It rather appears the ever-so Illustrious Grace wants the matter straightened out as she believes in your astute faculties, my friend,” Regis said, fixing him with his eyes. “She did, however, lie to us about the relationship. That, on the other hand, remains a valid question.”

Geralt sighed deeply, feeling exhausted. Too many damn loose threads, not even once connecting. And more just continued to show up whenever he picked one and tried to follow it.

“Guess we will just have to ask her, that and the ball,” Geralt said tiredly.

“I believe the latter shall be both quicker and easier if we do it my way,” Regis said mysteriously.

“What do you – “ Geralt began with a frown, and then he heard the familiar, melodious undertone of vampiric hypnosis. _“What the – ?”_

Geralt was startled when a raven suddenly dived from a nearby house, down at them.

But before it even hit them, it turned upright and headed towards a scrawny teenager girl with a curled, chestnut hair and a dirty, dark-red dress instead, carrying a basket full of flowers a few meters in front of them.

The fowl crashed into the basket in full force, scattering them around the street and the wind, and almost immediately flew away as if nothing had happened.

The girl stared balefully at it all, frozen pale, before she threw herself onto the ground, seizing the remaining flowers and scraping her knees while at it. People around here whispered heatedly and passed by her without helping, with her eyes turning glassy and watery by each additional whisper directed towards her.

_What the hell was going on?_

Geralt craned his neck, just seeing empty air, except for the gray cloak fluttering in his peripheral vision.

He turned his head around and found Regis crouched on the street beside the girl, helping to pick up the flowers. The girl looked confused, but it didn't take long before the single flowers turned into a bouquet with Regis offering it to the girl in a bowed pose.

“My, what beautiful flowers, very well selected to match their exquisite appearance of the young owner I’m certain,” Regis uttered eloquently.

A blush bloomed across the girl’s freckled cheeks, tentatively taking the flowers from Regis' hand, accidentally touching the pale fingers. Her already red hue darkened instantly.

“T-thank you,” She stammered, looking shyly at him.

“Merely stating facts, young lady,” Regis smiled gently, eyes kind. ”Forgive me for my lack of modesty, but you do not happen to know about a ball occurring in the near future, in this very area?”

The girl’s face suddenly beamed. “Well, of course sire! Haven’t you heard? It’s the traditional festival for the Lady of the Lake for bestowing our five virtues!”

Regis eyed Geralt knowingly, fabricating a bit too fake face and voice of surprise, clearly pleased as hell. Geralt rolled his eyes. “ _Oh,_ is that so? Sounds very intriguing indeed, when is it exactly supposed to take place?”

“Tomorrow evening. Shouldn’t be missed for anything sire. Many foreigners come just to experience the grand ball,” The girl chirped, placing the flowers in her basket.

Regis hummed in obvious triumph.

"I’ll be certain to check on it if such is the case," Regis said, eyes crinkling, and reached for something in his pockets. "Here, for your misfortune,” He pulled out a bag of coins, much more than the original worth of the flowers, and reached it out in the air.

The girl gawked at him, shaking her head vigorously.

“Sire, I – I can’t –“

“I insist. For the information if nothing else,” Regis interrupted and grabbed one of the girl’s hands, placing the pouch of coins without receiving any protests.

A wide smile spread across her face, blue eyes glimmering up at him.

“Thank you. May the Lady of the Lake be with you!” The girl beamed and ran away quickly towards the lower part of Beauclair, flowers flying from her basket to decorate the cobbled streets.

Geralt snorted and closed the distance between them.

“That's how you got two succubus into your bed too?” Geralt said in derision. It wouldn't even surprise him if he had.

Regis arched an eyebrow, something roguish darting past his face.

“My my, do I note a tint of jealousy? Not to worry, Geralt, I still consider you as my favorite human,” Regis said wryly and reached for his inner pocket to reveal a white, seven-petalled flower, suddenly bowing elegantly in front of him with the flower in his hand. “A cross-breed between the heartsease and white myrtle, hand-picked from the foot of the Mount Gorgon, which unexpectedly thrives in the area’s volcanic soil. Exotic, rare beyond measurement, which displays a remarkable allure in its striking, yet simplistic form. Alike to my fascinating companion," Regis lifted his dark, intent gaze to meet his, a smirk playing on his mouth. "It even fits superbly with your hair, I daresay.”

Geralt’s his stomach wanted to flee from him all of the sudden, jumping all around.

“Funny,” Geralt deadpanned, throat tight. “Too bad I’m not some fair-maiden. Not that easy to charm me.”

Regis' eyes suddenly twinkled with mischief and something more unreadable.

“ _Shame indeed._ But I suppose I shall just need to try harder then,” Regis uttered lowly, giving Geralt a full-on fanged grin.

Geralt’s heart went up in his throat and averted his gaze, feeling his erratic pulse through the veins in a way he didn’t really understand.

Regis regarded him with a shrewd, sharp gaze and pulled himself up, placing the flower in his pocket. He brought a hand to his chin and scratched the skin with his sharp fingernails, looking contemplative. Only to sigh and drop it.

“Alas, I’ve tried my damndest to avoid it, but I’m beginning to believe we have no choice on the matter," Regis said out of the blue. "We better contact Orianna if my fowls bear no adequate information.”

Geralt's head whipped around to face Regis. _“What?_ What the hell - _Why?_ Said yourself that I would pay a prize I didn’t want to agree to if I contacted Orianna. What’s the difference now?”

“I did, and for good reason too. Yet, I cannot deny Orianna is superior when it comes to information centering on the affairs of Beauclair, and as things stands, we may need help to find this vengeful vampire in time,” Regis elaborated.

Geralt took a deep breath, because he knew Regis was right. Last time they had tried to find a higher vampire, it had taken them several days to even find something connected to Dettlaff. The hand had been a lucky find. And they didn’t have days. But the entire reason for Regis being here was to avoid other options like Orianna, which made it feel as if he had dragged Regis here in vain, putting him in danger for nothing. Again.

Geralt’s stomach dropped, a heavy feeling settling in his gut.

* * *

Regis knocked on a tall, wooden door in the middle of a wall. The same estate where he had been at the soiree with the Duchess. It was dark, the streets dim and murky with torches as the only source of light in the streets, two of them on each side of the larger door.

“Sure she will hear? Pretty far away from the houses,” Geralt said, agitation knotting in his stomach.

Regis’ mouth tugged into a crooked grin. “Really Geralt. Did you truly believe I was the only vampire using more ears than my own?”

Geralt squinted his eyes at him, opening his mouth, when he heard the familiar noise of sharp, swaying movements in the air. Torches suddenly flickered and sliding locks clicked one after the other, and then the door in front of them was carefully opened, partly. A ray of dim, warm light managed to escape from the insides of the estate to illuminate Regis’ face.

A figure with a red-haired bun peeked from the spring, still in an olive-colored, formal dress despite the late hour. Sharp, hazel eyes locked onto Regis as if she, _Orianna_ , hadn’t been surprised to see him. Her entire face was tense, lips curling cruelly, moving to close the door again.

“Regis, you know that I cannot be seen with you after -“

Regis grabbed the spring of the door. “I know. But please, spare us but a moment and then I will personally displace myself from your presence as far as possible.”

Orianna stilled, darting her eyes over Regis.

“ _Hm._ Must indeed be important for you to undermine yourself to begging. Yet I do not offer my services from the kindness of my heart,” She said emotionlessly, unperturbed.

“Time for you to do then. Might save innocent lives,” Geralt drawled and stepped closer to Regis, seceding himself from the shadows.

Orianna dragged her piercing gaze to him, eyes widening.

“Geralt of Rivia? My, what a surprise, I did not see you there in the dark,” Orianna said in a tone of shock, but everything else in her posture said otherwise. “Pray, what could ever a humble woman as myself bestow on a _master witcher?_ ”

Geralt threw her a pointed look. “Cut the crap. I know what you really are.”

Her expression of surprise instantly twisted into an uncharacteristic coldness, condescending and cruel. Eyes almost slithered, staring intently at them with bright, hazel eyes that emitted a faint, yellow glow in the dark.

Geralt felt the hairs on his neck prickle up. The chilly evening breeze suddenly felt warm in comparison to the atmosphere that whirled around Orianna.

“My, my. It appears your friendship does run deeper than I previously assumed. You are becoming rather -" Orianna dragged an icy, authoritative gaze over to Regis. " _Indiscrete_  during your older years, Regis. I should have you reprimanded,” She finished flatly, upper lip curling back to reveal teeth.

“My dear. Contrary to most beliefs, Geralt is rather skilled at his occupation. He is perfectly capable of deducing information on his own,” Regis said evenly, face indifferent.

Orianna regarded Regis for a moment, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other.

“I suppose my hints were rather distinct during your last visit,” Orianna uttered eventually, like some sort of peace-offering.

Geralt snorted and crossed his arms.

“You think? Not like you try hard to hide it. Known for ages?  _Pushed a man out of a window across a room?_ Bound to figure it out with that level of discretion,” Geralt said drily.

Orianna turned her cold eyes on him and almost loomed over him despite being taller. 

“Mm. I see why you keep him. Vigilant as a vampire,” A flicker of amusement flashed across her face, pupils paling all of the sudden, almost all white, hollow eyes fixing onto him. “Am I to be the next honored target on your list of heinous  _monsters?_ ”

Geralt hesitated, suppressing a shiver.

“Depends entirely on you,” Geralt said evenly, keeping his own pupil-slithered eyes on the monstrous eyes despite every instinct telling him to draw his weapon.

Orianna hummed, darkening her pupils to human levels. “You do realize that you will both be in debt to me?”

“We fully understand the terms, and still I ask of you to hear us out,” Regis said in a deflated, emotionless voice.

Orianna stared at them, as if assessing them, the enigmatic aura behind those almost glowing yellow and green hues dancing in her eyes, before she stepped from the door.

“I rather have this conversation where as few ears as possible are listening,” Orianna said, leaving the door open ajar and turning her back to them, before she sauntered lazily across the cobbled garden towards the balcony.

Geralt knitted his eyebrows and stared quizzically at Regis.

Regis swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing from it, and tightened his grip over his satchel. He cast Geralt a quick sidelong glance, nodding, and stepped into the estate, the scholar’s tunic of torn fabric and gray hair fluttering slightly in the light breeze.

Geralt sighed and reluctantly followed after, unease almost seeping into his bones as he passed the doors, settling permanently at the bottom of his gut.

All evidence from the boisterous party was gone, leaving an eerily quiet and calm estate. Only a few ravens perched on top of the roofs, croaking at their entrance.

Orianna had taken a seat near the baluster, table not nearly as decorated with food, plates and chalices as their previous visit with the Duchess at the same spot. Only a few candles, wine glasses and a bottle of red, thick liquid, which he doubted was wine, ornamented the table. Orianna swirled a wine glass in her hand, scrutinizing them as they took seats on the opposite side of the table.

“I would offer you a glass, but I rather expect you would not appreciate this sort of distinguished taste. Neither of you from what I’ve heard,” Eyes never leaving them, she threw them one of those unnerving smiles that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Geralt felt his stomach churn. _Blood._ “So, what pleasure do I have for this surprise visit?”

Geralt shared a look with Regis, not really knowing why they were even here to begin with, but Regis just looked expectantly back at him, as if tentative and letting him lead.

Geralt pressed his lips together and shifted in his seat to met Orianna head-on with a nonchalant look.

“How much do you know about the other vampires in Beauclair?” Geralt cut the chase, trying to make his voice as steady as possible despite the unease.

Orianna peered intently at him over the wine glass, giving him a small, secretive half-smirk. “Depends entirely on who is asking.”

Geralt screwed up a face, irritation welling up.

“Someone who wants to stop a vampire from making a mistake,” Geralt snarked drily.

Orianna quirked an eyebrow.

“A mistake, you say? This sounds fairly similar. A tall man with dark-raven hair from Nazair familiar,” Orianna said drily, no remorse on her face.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, a flare of anger shooting through him. “Don’t have time for your –“

“Geralt, if I may,” Regis cut in smoothly and leaned forward on his elbows, intertwining his hands with long, pale fingers. “I reckon we have discovered something grave, devilishly hazardous even."

 _"Oh?"_ Orianna said, letting the sound roll lazily on her tongue.

“We have reason to believe that some of us have been abducted from their homes in Beauclair, perhaps facing an even worse fate after,” Regis continued grimly, ignoring Orianna.

Orianna stopped the swirling movement with the wine glass, looking thrown off. “That is not possible –”

“With there being no other species as superior and definitive altruistic as us? Hm. Daresay there are _exceptions,_ ” Regis paused meaningfully, looking more intensely at the Orianna. “You know I would not ask for your help for a mere triviality.”

Silence surrounded them like a thick, unnerving fog with foglets all around.

Orianna took an unhurried sip of the thick liquid, face slightly distorted and wearier, revealing her true age, which was too old for a regular creature.

“What are you exactly willing to share with me?” Orianna said after a long pause.

Regis’ apprehensive posture slackened, shoulders dropping down.

“Not much, I’m afraid. We do not know the purpose, nor the methods. Nonetheless, we believe a survivor is to execute misdirected revenge on Her Grace during the upcoming event. This vampire reckons the Duchess is behind the abductions, which, as you can imagine, could potentially aggravate the already fragile situation,” Regis admitted.

Orianna tsk'ed at him.

“Unfortunately, I can. You are not the only one who has been forced to live a more secluded lifestyle. It has been rather irritating," Orianna finished bluntly. "Although, there is one essential missing detail,” She placed her wine glass on the table, leaning forward in her seat, utterly rapt on Regis as if Geralt suddenly didn’t exist. "Why are you doing this? You will gain nothing from us, Regis.”

A furtive smile spread on Regis’ lips, but grief was still palpable in his eyes, combined with a strange gleam. “You err. I’m not conducting a path for redemption. Simply trying to limit the number of innocent victims by preventing a potentially fatal event.”

Orianna narrowed her eyes, retaking her glass. “ _Mhm?_ Well, you were always the one with an overgrown sense of empathy after your – _phase._ ”

“Indeed. We tend to learn from the demons of our past,  _or present ones,_  with any luck,” Regis countered dryly, the muscles on his neck strained, twitching as if they were almost ready to snap.

Orianna clenched her jaws, already sharp eyes narrowing into slits.

Geralt sighed, almost tasting the dangerous tension in the air.

“Sorry to disturb your reminiscing, but got a situation here,” Geralt said drily, and four equally piercing eyes dragged to him, but the tension seemed to slip away.

“Hard to argue with that. This is not the time, nor place for this _,_ ” Regis agreed, eyes glinting dangerously at Orianna.

“Indeed. Yet, it appears you are perfectly capable of deducing and discovering information on your own. What do you even need from me?” Orianna asked wryly.

“Information about the Zarachieve family,” Regis said, without hesitation. “Anything potentially worthwhile to reveal the next location of the daughter. Without dwelling into unnecessary details; motives, regular spots of visits, perceived choice of company.”

Orianna’s lips pressed tightly together. “Am I to understand the Zarachieve family is missing?”

“Not entirely. Their son managed to escape the onslaught, and the daughter was not present at the time,” Regis admitted, hesitant.

Orianna shifted her gaze to the shores of Beauclair, holding them in silence for a long moment.

“They were rather – _unorthodox._ They found humans, life overall, quite fascinating, worthwhile even, regarding their habits and culture. Humanitarian beliefs. They moved here suddenly a few years ago. I do not know the reasons for it, but the children came subsequently. Both matured in the city with humans. _Wolves disguised in sheep’s clothing._ Quite amusing, _”_ Orianna chuckled darkly, eyes crinkling on the edges into a half-smile. Geralt felt his spine grow cold. “Alas, I do not know much else, except, I’ve heard the birds’ whisper regarding the daughter. Apparently she has generated a few rumors.”

Geralt stared warily at her. “What sorts of rumors?”

Orianna tsk'ed at him, the merciless gaze never leaving him. “Who says _I_ know the precise rumors?”

Regis chuckled lowly without any real humor in it, the sound of someone knowing something others didn’t. "We already know of the sexual interactions with humans – a particularly lady, in point of fact. No need to withhold information from us.”

“Oh? It appears I grossly underestimated you. Or perhaps I underestimated the company _you keep_ ,“ Orianna smirked viciously at them. “I suppose I cannot contribute more to it in such case.”

Geralt heaved out a deep sigh, starting to tire of Orianna circulating around the questions. Damn tiring in fact. “What about places, any frequent visits to certain areas? Did your birds chatter something about that?”

 _“Perhaps,”_ Orianna said coyly, lips slightly pursed. “I’ve heard she is frequently seen in festivals, larger events and crowds, even taverns. Yet, I only know general whispers, rumors, not particularly any specifics as they never served as a general interest to me until  _now._ ”

Geralt’s shoulder squared, his scars itching with all her unwavering, invisible attention on them both, which seemed all-encompassing and boring into them. Even if her face was unruffled, blank, nothing to indicate lies. No twitching muscles. No derision. Nothing.

“However, I can divulge the Zarachieve family are not the first vampires to go missing in the past few months,” Orianna said casually, as if it was nothing.

Geralt stiffened, staring blankly at her, speechless, until a gnawing ire crawled into his skin.

All this time, _all this damn time he had been Toussaint_ , and she hadn't even bothered to tell him about this. _After all that had happened._ Or maybe it was because of everything that had happened, which obviously it had gotten out of hand by hiding it all.

“You didn’t bother to tell this until now?” Geralt growled, hands clenching into tight fists.

Orianna arched an eyebrow at him.

“I do not customarily confer these matters with your type,  _master witcher._  Besides, I did not suspect anything unusual beforehand. Your brethren kill my kin ever so often. I’m not exactly easily impressed,” Orianna replied flatly, keeping a face of indifference. “Though this is the first time I’ve heard higher vampires are going missing, which puts a new light on the current observations. This is all I know. _For the moment.”_

Geralt leveled her with narrowed eyes, suspicious, almost expecting new information to spew out into existence.

“Guess we are done here then,” Geralt said dryly and rose from the chair, wanting nothing to release the tension that had been building up ever since they entered the estate.

Orianna leaned forward again.

“Tell me witcher, how does it feel to know that you’ve dragged Regis to the status of outcasts with you? Any particular reason to condemn a friend, a dear one from your own sayings, for eternity?” Orianna said abruptly, piercing eyes hooking into him like fishhooks.

The air was forced out of Geralt's lungs, the surging guilt spreading across his chest like a wildfire.

He whisked up his head towards Orianna, mind whirling, but Regis raised a hand in the air before he could even open his mouth.

“Please, Orianna. Geralt is not to blame. The decision was my own, no one twisted my arm,” Regis said firmly, his entire posture turning defensive and sharp, lips almost curled up in a snarl.

Orianna shifted her attention to Regis, like a rotfiend that had just caught the scent of a corpse. “ _Mhm?_ Then do explain this to me Regis. You  _voluntary_ helped to kill a higher vampire when there was no need for it. You  _actively_ choose to protect a witcher, one you have known for a few years and as you mentioned; perfectly capable at his occupation, against a higher vampire. Your _Anarkien_. If no one twisted your arm, then what other possible reason could you have had?”

Geralt's heart beat rapidly in his chest, and he couldn’t think, barely breathe. The question he had asked himself ever since Regis had decided to stand against Dettlaff.

“He was consumed by fury, nothing left but a beast incapable of other emotions, and he would have remained in that state unless I acted. Thus, there was no other way," Regis said simply, but with a dangerous undertone."I reckon you, if anyone, should comprehend the burden of never wishing a life of lunacy among those we hold dear, the sheer rationale behind my final decision.” 

Orianna's eyes smiled cruelly.

“ _Hm._ Is that truly all? Or is there –  _something else?_ ” Orianna looked directly into Regis' eyes, but he just stayed quiet as if there was nothing to say. Regis’ face was inscrutable, calm, too composed. As if hiding something. Orianna suddenly narrowed her eyes, flickering her eyes between them in an almost imperceptive manner. “ _Ah._ I see. I pity you, Regis. Truly.”

Regis sniffed discreetly, his nose twitching anxiously.

“It seems we have disturbed you longer than necessary. I think it’s high time we set out for Corvo Bianco. Wouldn’t you say Geralt?” Regis quickly uttered and straightened his back, not even looking at him. “Thank you for your time. I – _We_ are grateful.”

Regis surged to his feet and put the chair into place, throwing an unmissable expression over his shoulder, a  _‘follow his lead without a question’_ expression.

Geralt looked confusedly at him, feeling as if he had missed something important, with everyone else knowing what it was beside him, but no one had to really ask him twice. He wanted to get out of here too. As damn quickly as possible.

He hurried after Regis to the stairs of the balcony.

“A lifetime is a long time. Especially for an anathema,” Orianna said from the table and Regis stopped, idly looking over his shoulder. “I suggest you make the most out of it.”

Regis kept his head high and looked back at her without even blinking, emotionless, as if it meant nothing to him, but his eyes went distant and guarded. He directed a brief nod once and continued down the stairs, his entire back rigid.

Geralt looked quizzically at him, almost sure he saw a smug smirk on Orianna from his peripheral vision, but disappeared as if it had never been there when he gave her final glance and walked towards the exit.

A wave of relief flooded into him after they closed the door to estate, continuing their way to Corvo Bianco in the dim-lighted streets of Beauclair. Mist had begun to form over them, the dampness from the night lingering in the air. 

“Guess that was for nothing,” Geralt remarked, darting his eyes over to Regis. His eyes were downcast and face pained, as if in deep, grim thoughts.

Regis looked over at him, the gloom dispersing from his face. “Not for nothing, Geralt. Never for nothing. She will keep her watchers and sources keen on information with her -“

“Looking into it. Yeah. I figured. Starting to learn the vampire language,” Geralt said dryly.

“One ability and experience richer then," Regis derided with a tight, small smile. "Not to mention all the potential clues. Perhaps it was their humanitarian values? Or something in their past? They did arrive, rather abruptly, according to Orianna.”

Geralt took a deep breath, feeling tired. “Doesn’t say much though. Most newcomers come abruptly. Many with _something_ in their past.”

Regis threw him a sidelong glance. “It might still be worth looking into.”

They fell into an odd, tense silence, which basically never happened with Regis around, always coming up with something to talk about. 

Geralt noticed that Regis' hands clenched to the satchel as if he tried to constrict the last life from the leather, mouth set in a frown, back to the solemn mood. 

“So, what did she discover about you?” Geralt asked.

Regis flinched, the grip on the satchel’s strap tightening even further.

“Nothing of importance,” Regis said quickly, too quickly, gaze pinned on some houses across them in the distance.

Geralt squinted his eyes. More like he was right on the point. “Bullshit. Can see that it bothers you.”

Regis just stayed silent, slipping into one of those blank, expressionless masks, _to hide._

Geralt heaved out a deep sigh. “ _Gotta be kidding me._ Always on about wanting me to express myself more, but when I try to get you to talk to me about the same things then all I get is a grunt or at best a short reply? Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?”

Regis’ entire mouth scrunched up.

"There are some skeletons in which there are no other better spaces than the closet,” Regis said tensely, a clear effort to draw the conversation to an end, expression turning dejected again for a mere second, before quickly transforming into something more mischievous. “Now, I believe we have an even greater hurdle to overcome. Namely, a suitable attire for _the upcoming exhilarating event._ ”

Geralt let out a long-suffering, deep breath, resigned at Regis’ tendency to keep things from him. And he already figured out Regis was planning without needing to ask him.

“I hate formal occasions.” Geralt grumbled.


	5. Chapter 5

Geralt turned to the side in front of the tall, gilded mirror placed in the guest room, inspecting his profile.

The man staring back at him was not happy, more like someone who had been heavily constipated for years and never heard a joke in his life. At least it certainly represented what he felt.

He sighed, rotating around in the attire and staring, more like glaring, at the dark clothing with blue undertones and golden embroidered flowers. It glimmered in the mirror, all sophisticated and colorful, in contrast to his pale face, the long-edged scar across his left eye, yellow irises and the loosely gathered snow-white hair tied behind his head, a few rogue hairs falling to the sides of his head.

It did not suit him. Not even a little. Even the clothes seemed to scrunch up as if to point out his obvious lack of refinement.

He sighed loudly again. At least everyone was gone, no one to see it, but he could still hear their snide comments in his mind, clear as if they were here.

_Fantastic outfit, Geralt. Doublet tight enough for you, Geralt?_

Geralt huffed. He had never imaged himself one to miss the snarky comments.

“ _My, my,_ don’t you look dashing,” A very alive, snarky voice drawled outside of his head. All posh and pleased.

Geralt whipped his head around, seeing Regis lean on the doorframe and eying him from head to toe. Still dressed in his gray-leathery tunic, gloves and muddy boots, arms folded. He positively gleamed with glee, half-smirking at him.

Geralt scowled half-heartedly at him. So much for being in the laboratory for the next couple of _hours_ , like Regis had said. He should have known better.

“Second time, Regis, gonna begin thinking your memory is shit. You know I don’t like compliments when I look like a twit,” Geralt grumbled, trying to battle with the upcoming rush of blood to his face by rearranging the cuffs.

“I do know indeed. Quite the shame though, as it enhances your features very well. So refined, so _sophisticated_ ,” Regis continued in a saccharine voice, mouth twitching.

Geralt glowered at him. “Regis. I’ll smash _your face_ if you don’t shut up."

Regis tsk’ed at him, just looking even more damn pleased with himself.

“My, quite the mouth he bestows too! Such excellent repartee. Alas, such astonishing language skills will not carry you far in the world of glistening triviality. They rather prefer empty words and coy remarks than quite visual, straightforward answers,” Regis said helpfully, lips quirking into a full-on, fanged smirk.

“Good thing I’m not gonna do the talking then. Happen to know a perfectly, well-spoken _gentleman_ to do that work for me. _Right Regis?”_ Geralt said wryly, meeting Regis' eyes through the mirror.

If he was going to attend a ball in a tight doublet and smile politely (which probably looked more like a maniacal close-to-serial-killer grin), then Regis could at least offer some distraction and blend into the crowd while he became intimately acquainted with the refreshment tables, particularly the wine.

Regis shook his head ruefully. “Unfortunately for you, I shall not be attending the event in a blatant demeanor. Merely as your ever-so loyal incognito devotee in the shadows, keeping a vigilant eye on suspicious maidens who does not, perish the thought, swoon at your feet.”

Geralt’s forehead creased. “Sorry, but you will have to impress people with your puff of fog attire some other time. If I’m going in a formal attire then you are going too.”

Regis sighed. “Geralt, I don’t think that is wise considering-“

“Dettlaff and his minions’ rampage? Didn’t seem like a problem when we were investigating Syanna’s room,” Geralt broke in, fighting down a rush of anxiety. _The hell that he was going alone to a ball. In a damn attire._

“Due to the lack of people. Which is not the case of this ball, quite the opposite. Thus, I find no reason to attend when there is a far more suitable, discrete alternative,” Regis argued, almost sensibly.

Geralt looked doubtfully at him, because there was something else to it. The tone was too stiff and too well-rehearsed. “Never stopped you before. Know that you actually like this sort of thing.”

“Oh? Because you suddenly know me oh-so-well?” Regis lowered his head, eyelids dipped.

Geralt blinked, unsure where this was going. “Sorry, but if you haven’t noticed, it is my job to deduce and notice small things about others as a witcher.”

A quirk twitched on Regis' lips. “Indeed, a difficult thing to oversee.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes even further. The taciturn answers. The stoic expression. Circumstantiality. Vampires’ way to avoid subjects. “Regis. What are you not telling me?”

Regis peered innocently at him. “Why would I ever need to hide something? I assure you. I am – “

“Absolutely atrocious at playing indifferent,” A familiar voice entered the room. A pair of lengthy, elegant black boots stepped into the room, the owner looking amusedly enough for the lilac eyes to curve, sweeping her gaze over his figure as if mentally picking him apart. “My, you did not exaggerate in the letter. All those years of vigorous training in Kaer Morhen for nothing. Bested by black velvet.”

“Mm, yes. The surprise proclaims as she entered the room,” Regis countered and stepped to the side.

Yennefer snorted and waved dismissively in the air. “Please. Another minute and you would have busted the surprise entirely.”

Geralt stared blankly at the banter, feeling as if he had missed an entire sequence of his life somewhere.

“What are you doing here?” Geralt spluttered. Because really, how the hell did everyone manage to suddenly gather at the exact moment when he really didn’t want to be seen.

Yennefer raised an eyebrow, but she still didn’t seem at all ruffled. “My, such a charming greeting. Your endearing gestures of love never cease to amaze me.”

“Well, kinda thought you were busy tearing off the heads of other sorceresses,” Geralt said drily.

Yennefer nodded approvingly at the apparently correct mental image of her.

“Mm, I was. But then I was informed a very dashing man, which I have kept my own eyes on for quite some time, who has refused the immense, repetitive efforts from this remarkably beautiful woman to join feasts and banquets with her, is suddenly attending an upcoming ball. I could not resist to see it for myself,” Yennefer said evenly, eyes sparkling madly with mischief.

Geralt narrowed his eyes and dragged accusing eyes to Regis. “Really? Can’t imagine where those news would come from.”

Regis averted his eyes, scratching his cheek with one of his sharp nails. “Quite the mystery indeed, but I am certain that the bearer of these news, whomever this seemingly dashing and dapper fellow is, did it out of sheer necessity and care.”

Geralt snorted.

“Sure,” Geralt deadpanned, staring at Regis in rapt disbelief. “Or did the bearer merely invite Yen to avoid attending the event himself?”

Regis stroked his chin in poorly feigned contemplation, eyes gleaming. “Mm, yes, a very possible theory indeed. Though none that can be verified, I fear. It shall forever stay a mystery along this enigmatic bearer.”

Yennefer lifted both her eyebrows, turning to stare directly at Regis.

“I expected Geralt to grunt and whine endlessly about the event, but what is this all about _you_ not attending the event?” Yennefer said, puzzled, an undertone of slight accusation.

“You err. I am, though in a different form,” Regis elaborated, voice sounding a bit too controlled.

Yennefer sighed loudly.

“I am beginning to believe all men inherited a deeply seated, inner repulsion against sophisticated manners," Yennefer drawled, waving dramatically with her hand. "No, it will simply not do. Geralt needs at least two to keep his flailing limbs in check in order to minimize the damage to the Palace Grounds. One for each side of him.”

“Funny. I’m right here you know,” Geralt snarked.

“Alas, your dashing looks do not change the fact that you bestow the grace of an earth elemental,” Yennefer said drily, lilac tones glimmering in the depths of her eyes. “However, in all seriousness, we need you on the floor. It is the far more suitable alternative and less likely to stir commotion in case you suddenly need to manifest out of nowhere.”

“Forgive my candidness, but if I were to attend in my more corporeal form, the guests would easily put the two together if I transformed in it all. The same cannot be said if I am to attend in my less corporeal form,” Regis countered firmly.

“I know. Yet, there are more advantages to your corporeal form, because if anything happens, then I can at least count on you to quickly handle the situation without delay,” Yennefer argued back.

For a long moment, Regis stayed quiet, looking thoughtful. “I suppose you are right.”

Geralt stared incredulously at Regis.

He had a hard time believing Regis could be so easily persuaded, the same man who broke rules in his damn codex just to stick to his point of view, the same man who offered a lot of different alternatives just to persuade others to consider other ways to solve the situation, preferably a way Regis thought was appropriate. And the voice was too tense, too guarded. He was definitely hiding something, something he wouldn’t say in Yennefer’s presence.

“Do you even have another ensemble?” Geralt said dryly, keeping a watchful eye on him and sending a note to himself to interrogate Regis later. Not like he would get away with it.

Regis looked amusedly back at him. “Believe it or not, but I do indeed, in fact, own a pair of alternative clothing sets beside the one I am currently wearing.”

“Oh yeah?” Geralt said. “Not gonna believe it until I got proof of this new, mysterious clothing set.”

Regis shook his head, contriving to look apologetic. “Sadly, you shall not even receive a glimpse until the festivities. It is to my knowledge it accumulates the suspense.”

Geralt snorted skeptically. “You mean that you merely wait for the right opportunity to optimize the amount of people to swoon at you.”

Regis’ smirk widened even further. “Oh my, do I hear an insinuated compliment?”

Heat blossomed in his cheeks, realizing what he had just said out of spontaneity and feeling himself flush even if he knew it wouldn’t show on him, thank fuck for small mercies.

“Fuck off,” Geralt shot back lightly.

He made eye-contact with Yennefer, receiving an odd stare from her. Geralt could only stare back in a mouthless ‘What’.

Regis chuckled, still looking smug, oblivious to the silent communication.

“And the astonishing repartee strikes again. You are quite right, however, as I have a few errands in town with these new turn of events. Do try to refrain yourself from tearing apart the attire, but I daresay Yennefer will not allow it,” Regis pushed himself from the wall.

Panic shot through Geralt, whirling his head around.

"What - _No,_ we agreed - " Geralt began, alarmed, because like hell he was going to let Regis go alone with all the codex-frantic vampires around in Toussaint.

"Please Geralt, it won't be but a moment. I'll be fine," Regis cut him off, hand raised, staring at him with steely determined eyes, and turned towards Yen. “My lady. _Geralt_.” He added, rolling meaningfully on his name, and walked quickly out of the room before Geralt could even cross the room, the footsteps thinning into nothing, leaving him alone with Yen.

Geralt inwardly cursed, fighting against the urge to run outside to find him and drag him back. But he knew Regis, once he had decided something, it was damn hard to convince him otherwise. He didn't even know where to begin searching for him. Errands in town could be every-fucking-where in Beauclair.

He sighed and turned back to the mirror, willing down the anxiety. 

Comfortable silence curled around them. Or as comfortable it could be with black velvet constricting the life-force out of you, being worried about Regis and someone staring holes into the back of your head.

Geralt cleared his throat. “How much did Regis fill in on the details of the case?”

“Plenty. Enough to understand the current predicament,” Yennefer said, which Geralt translated into ‘basically everything’. “It has been a while since I saw you in anything besides your witcher clothes. It is different. _In a good way._ ”

Geralt grunted, wrinkling his nose.

“They are too tight, itches all over the damn place, and can’t move. How does anyone wear these? Just wanna get rid of them,” Geralt complained, trying to will the clothes to fold with his glare.

Yennefer tilted her head and hummed, almost in a leer. “Perhaps later. With fewer ears near the household. And more four-legged companions.”

Geralt snorted and turned to look at her. “What’s with you and unicorns?”

“Nothing that matches your current juvenile fantasies,” Yennefer finished dryly, not offering any further elaboration, leading to another silence, tenser.

Geralt tried to not fidget on the spot. He didn’t need to see to know two eyes tried to dig into his head from across the room, if they weren’t already looking into his mind, his skin itching all over the place and feeling exposed. The tension was all around, rippling through him and wrapping around his body. He knew he had to say something, with Yennefer thinking there was still something neither Regis nor him hadn’t said. _Plenty_ could mean many things, but he didn’t know if Regis had said anything about Joseff yet. It didn’t seem like a thing Regis would do, telling thing which wasn’t his to tell. Maybe that was what Yennefer might have discovered, rummaging through his mind.

“So - “ Geralt began tentatively, hoping for the best. “May have stumbled upon something.”

Yennefer folded her arms with a scornful look on her face. _Dammit,_ not the reaction he had been hoping for.

“Really? Something tells me there is more to this particularly interesting story,” Yennefer lifted one imperious eyebrow.

Geralt hesitated, swallowing thickly at Yen's stern posture. “Kinda found a child during our quest.”

“Kinda found a child? Either you did or you did not,” Yennefer said, voice full with disbelief.

“Yeah yeah, fine, we did and - ” Geralt paused, hesitated, especially when he saw Yennefer’s eyebrows lift even higher. “He might also be a higher vampire.”

Yennefer tugged up the corner of her upper lip, dubious. “Mhm, _is that so?_ Are the fangs not sharp enough to meet _the requirements?_ ”

Geralt sighed and stared right into the mirror, eying Yennefer through the reflection. “He is the child of some murdered vampires. Got no one really at the moment. Thought he could stay here until we find his sister, the one who is trying to take revenge on the Duchess.”

Yennefer stared at him for a moment, Geralt almost thought she wouldn’t respond, and then exhaled slowly, letting her arms fall from their tense, folded pose.

“Where is he staying then?” Yennefer asked out of the blue.

“Er –“ Geralt began helpfully, frowning. “In the guest room?”

Yennefer knitted her eyebrows together. “Then where is Regis staying?”

“- Around?” Geralt said weakly. “Don’t really need a room when he doesn’t sleep.”

“Geralt. That’s not how guest rules works,” Yennefer sighed, pulling herself up. “I suppose I have my day all planned out in such case. Out with you then, find this new guest and take care of him, like a _proper_ host. Then come back in an hour, both of you."

Geralt swung his head around. “What? What the hell Yen. Still got the attire to – ”

“And I got work to do in here.” Yennefer said firmly.

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “What kind of work exactly?”

“You’ll learn in due course. Now get out,” Yennefer waved a hand towards the door.

Geralt sighed again, more heavily, knowing there was no point in arguing. Or he would be probably teleported out for good measure. “Fine. Be back in a bit.”

“Mm, see you later,” Yennefer said, her eyes shimmering.

* * *

Geralt found Joseff sitting on Yennefer’s divan in the gardens, concentrating on some the book in his lap. His head didn’t even reach the top of the divan, staying almost completely hidden if it wasn’t for a few black hairs swirling in the wind just above it.

Geralt grabbed the top of the divan, dropping his gaze. Joseff had almost curled into a protective ball, back bent, long slender legs drawn up, and completely rapt by a book between them and his torso, not even noticing him.

“How are you holding up?” Geralt asked carefully.

Joseff flinched and jerked his head up, drawing himself straight. Anxious apprehension passed through his bright pale eyes and he slammed the book shut in his lap.

Geralt held up his hands in the air. “Hey hey, it’s alright. Didn’t mean to frighten you, just see how you are doing. Pretty big wound and all.”

Joseff visible relaxed, the anxiety disappearing from his eyes, and downcast his eyes.

“Better, thank you,” Joseff said shyly, almost in a whisper, and drew his feet even closer to his body.

Geralt ached, stifling the urge to fling Joseff on his shoulders just to cheer him up, but he doubted it would make anything better. Probably just earn himself a new scar.

“Good, don’t hesitate to say if it gets worse,” Geralt said gently and rounded the divan, slumping himself onto the edge of it with elbows on his knees.

He gazed tentatively over Joseff, still avoiding his eyes, and travelled his eyes down to the red book with black etchings on it.

“What are you reading?” Geralt asked, peering closer to read the title and eyes widening dramatically. “’The arcane arts in the perspective of the ungifted’? _What the hell._ Supposed to be a heavy reading if it’s the same book from Yen’s collection, even for an adult.”

Joseff winced, putting the book beside him and Geralt. Apparantly it was the wrong thing to say. Dammit.

“S-sorry. Thought it was interesting and I just –“ He turned his head away, pulling nervously on his sleeves. “I should have asked for permission before I took it from the shelves.”

Geralt dragged in a painful breath at the sight, shaking his head. Not what he had gone for. Damn his non-existent social skills sometimes.

“No, don’t worry about that. Sure Yen doesn’t mind,” Geralt assured and flashed a soft smile. “So you like magic?”

Joseff nodded and pulled knees more tightly to his chest, resting his chin on top of them as he looked over the valley.

“Thought higher vampires had sort of magic abilities though,” Geralt continued.

Joseff turned his head a fraction to stare at him, tilting his head to the side as if it was an odd question to him.

“That isn’t really magic in our eyes. Merely abilities. And we usually only have one special ability that isn’t a race ability. Not an entire element, like mages,” Joseff explained, sounding already like a junior Regis. Geralt almost snorted at the thought, suffused with warmth.

“Huh. Explains why I haven’t met any higher vampire mages, kinda thankful for it, or I would have been a goner,” Geralt said wryly.

Joseff just snorted, but a small smile tugged on his lips.

They lapsed into silence with Geralt not really knowing what to say, or what would even make anything better, staring out at the vast landscape in front of Corvo Bianco, vineyards and trees stretching to the far horizon with mountains

“Are you going to the ball?” Joseff asked out in the silence, avoiding Geralt's eyes.

“Yeah,” Geralt admitted, followed by another heavy silence.

Joseff chewed on his lips, looking troubled and hesitant. “Tell Evelyn ‘Arcnah shi al mauk thau’. If you manage that is.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What does it mean?”

“Hard to explain in the human language. But she will understand,” Joseff elaborated, without anything else.

Geralt didn’t say anything, looking at Joseff in silence for a moment. Despite the slightly tense shoulders, the troubled look covering his face, and mouth pressed thin, the wall seemed to crumble bit by bit.

Geralt nodded in the end, deciding to ask Regis about it later. Just to be sure.

“Noticed you haven’t really been in the house recently too. Because of the enclosed spaces?” Geralt asked after a while, because Joseff had basically been everywhere beside the inside of the house.

“No, I just – “ Joseff broke off, a haunted look spreading across his face. “They remind me. And it is hard to escape in enclosed spaces.”

“Yeah, figured as much,” Geralt said, fighting down a twinge of sadness that twisted his heart. “Could open the windows if that helps. Even arrange banquets out here. Bet Regis and Yen would love that. No one would mind the view. Would be a nice change to inhaling all those dust mites too.”

Joseff clutched more tightly to his legs, nodding as a small, heart-warming smile with sharp incisors began to break through the solemn face. “Thank you.”

* * *

" _What the fuck,“_ Geralt blurted out eloquently as he reached the upper level of the house with Joseff right behind him, near his legs.

An entire new room had been added to the house, beside the current guest room, judging by the completely new door and the new wooden floor on the other side of it.

“I never tire of your remarkably innovative compliments. They keep growing more impressive and creative by each day,” Yennefer stepped out of the new room, planting her hands on her hips.

Geralt stared at it. The room had been decorated with a smaller bed, delicate flowers and a wardrobe. “How. _What.”_

“Always hated that ghastly wooden plank to a wall. Might even expand this entire house one of these days. I do require a larger wardrobe,” Yennefer said easily, as if it was a daily routine to add another room in the house.

“Didn’t even think you could do spells in the earth element,” Geralt said in awe, touching the new walls and furniture. Solid as rock.

“I’m glad that I still surprise you after twenty years.” Yennefer smirked slyly at him, lowering her gaze to Joseff. “Now who do we have here?”

Joseff stiffened, straightening himself. “J-Joseff Vernac-Ozerie Zarachieve. Pleasure to meet you, Madame.”

Yennefer smiled more warmly, kind.

“Oh posh, none of those boring titles,” Yennefer waved a hand and drew closer to them, crouching down to his level, with Joseff slightly leaning closer to Geralt’s legs. “There is no need for that in this household. Mostly because I have forgotten most manners myself by living with this boor. Call me Yen.”

“Hey!” Geralt exclaimed without any venom.

“As you can see, even his language ability is near to a troll's,” Yennefer flashed Geralt a wicked grin.

Geralt opened his mouth to retort, stopping when he noticed Joseff visibly tried to suppress a laugh, shoulders shaking slightly. His heart constricted fondly, deciding to hold onto the moment.

“Mhm, while this lady who has mastered the basics of eloquent speech and mockery is my partner, Yennefer, _a sorceress_ ,” Geralt said wryly, dragging out on the word in a conspiratorial tone.

Joseff’ eyes widened, watching her intensely, fascinated. “You are a sorceress?”

“I am,” Yennefer confirmed with a smug look.

Joseff brightened up like the sun after a murky night.

“C-can you show me some of it?” Joseff asked excitedly, all fears and apprehension gone.

 _A magic-obsessed vampire,_ Geralt smirked, amused.

Yennefer instantly conjured small sparks in the air, which flickered and cracked loudly in the air, leaving violet shimmers all over the place.

Joseff watched at it all in seemingly rapt fascination, reaching out a finger to one of the sparks but appearing to mentally stop himself from touching it in the last minute. Probably a good idea, even if it was mostly harmless magic.

Yennefer’s expression was soft, directing an affectionate gaze towards Joseff. “Now you know if Geralt and Regis ever don’t treat you well, merely run to me and I shall teach them a thing or two.”

Geralt grinned at them, familiar with that look on Yen’s face. She had already practically adopted him.

* * *

Darkness hung over him as he walked towards the palace. Alive, flickering fires on poles that illuminated the road up to the top of the steep hill, reflecting a warm hue of orange on the originally white walls of the massive buildings. The area around the pompous gate to the palace was crowded with aristocrats in their usual graceful attires and massive dresses, fanning themselves languidly with decorative fans. Aristocrats engaged in various conversations about the newest problems in their vineyards and faking polite smiles at everyone.

The grounds were overall crowded, nearly bursting with masked people in expensive and well-detailed clothes in all shapes, and the moment he had walked into it all, most of the attention had snapped up to him. Mouths frantically moved as they looked at him with sharp, shrewd gazes. Endless whispers, laughter and curious stares followed his trail as much as his shadow. All from the champion of Beauclair or the slayer of the beast to an atrocious mutant. As if they didn’t know he could basically hear it all, if he wanted to.  

Geralt pulled a face, wanting nothing else than to curl before the fireplace with a damn large bottle of wine, preferably beer. But it was as rare as unicorns in these parts. Someone would probably faint if he even said it.

 _‘Sometimes we must overcome our disgusts and prevail, especially when the disgusts are our neighbors’,_ Yennefer had said drily.

Bullshit. He could very well stay inside his house for the rest of his years without socializing with his damn neighbors. B-B was doing that job for him perfectly. But in the end, Yennefer had dragged him here, despite Regis' lack of presence at the time.

Geralt walked towards the main entrance, where straight rows of guards in ostentatious uniforms covered the sides of the road to represent the valor and grace of Toussaint.

He couldn't help but snort. Humane decorations even.

Twisting his head around, he scrutinized the area for Regis among the crowds, no sign of him anywhere. His eyebrows creased together, not recognizing any of the current guests.

_Where the hell was he?_

“Stop panicking. He probably got tied into some business in town,” Yennefer drawled, her black, elegant dress draping after her just as unbothered.

“He is never late,” Geralt pointed out, still wary, because really. He wasn’t, Regis was more a man of punctuality. For someone without time chasing constantly his heels, then he still spent most of his time as effectively as he could.

“Then he might be very well already inside,” Yennefer said.

Geralt still looked worriedly over the gardens. He should have received something by now. A crow. A message. Something if Regis had planned to be late. He had every reason to be paranoid with _every_ damn vampire in Toussaint wanting to kill Regis on the spot and something in the city actually murdering vampires. Higher vampires at that.

“As nice it is to observe the impeccable facade of the Palace, then I do believe we have other matters to attend. _More important matters_ ,” Yennefer said dryly, throwing bored eyes at him.

“Yeah yeah, Coming. Just weird,” Geralt mumbled, allowing Yennefer to drag him to the entrance of the Palace, the queue to the antechamber almost as long as his entire estate altogether. Geralt curled his upper lip upwards. “Ugh, I really hate formal occasions.”

Yennefer sighed, entire body sagging.

 _“I know,”_ Yennefer looked up at Geralt, something glittering in her stormy, lilac eyes. “As impressive your amount of stocked revulsion towards anything associated with aristocratic culture through the years is, then the safety of the Duchess of Toussaint is far more important. Besides, this might serve as an excellent opportunity for you to learn how to waltz properly at the very long last.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows, throwing a sly smirk at her. “Hmm. Need some sort of motivation to do that.”

“I am sure we can reach some _agreement of sorts,_ ” Yennefer threw him an equally impish grin, not breaking the eye-contact with him as other people passed by them.

The world ebbed away, the lilac irises looking up at him from under long eyelashes filling his view. The slightly tilted smile, the dark violet eyeshadow on her eyelids and the black curls which glistened in the Palace’s lights.

She was beautiful.

“The couple of Corvo Bianco. Sir Geralt of Rivia, The Slayer of the Beast, and Yennefer of Vengerberg!” A voice boomed through the Palace gardens and suddenly all the attention shifted to them from all corners of the Palace.

Geralt winched, averting his eyes.

Yennefer sighed again.

“Time to go,” Yennefer said, straightening and yanking Geralt along to the antechamber of the Palace. “Her Grace is in the western lounge of the Palace, presenting the main event. I shall reconnoiter the area while you keep an eye on her. I’ll alert you if I gather a trace, and I expect the same from you.”

Geralt cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her. “Thought sorceresses couldn’t trace higher vampires, especially not with magic.”

“Indeed, not at long distances. The same cannot be said about close distances,” Yennefer said easily, unbothered, the enigmatically long dress rustling past strangers who whispered frantically after them.

Geralt stared at her, wondering how much he didn’t actually know about her. “You know, you’re quite scary sometimes.”

Yennefer lifted her head, smirking, all shrewd and vicious. “Of course. It is a criterion when being with you or the female population would flock around you. And we cannot have that, can we?”

Geralt threw her what he hoped was a dashing grin. “You know I would only have eyes for you anyways.”

Eyes brightened in her intense, solemn face of nonchalance, a warm and genuine smile cutting through her sharp edges, softening them.

“ _Go,_ before the Duchess becomes one with the mass,” Yennefer pushed him away.

“Yen,” Geralt caught her hand before she stepped away, holding onto the smooth and beautiful, pale skin under his fingers. “Be careful.”

Yennefer stopped, her intense, demanding eyes peering up at him.

“The same applies to you Geralt,” Yennefer said evenly, with a firm and dangerous undertone, before the raven-black hair and equally raven-colored dress disappeared into the throng of people.

Geralt inwardly cringed as he was left alone with all these sophisticated people staring curiously at him, glaring back at them as a sheer reflex. He guessed this was where is numerous, vast knowledge from Kaer Morhen about the various rules of etiquette and how to deal with sophisticated matters in a mature, adult way came into use – Flee.

He spun around, quickly trying to push his way towards the western lounge, which was almost impossible itself with all the heaps of people in the way.

The western lounge was ridiculously large and high in the ceiling, probably as big as two of his main house, with several gilded, massive chandeliers hanging above him. At one side of the room, the orchestra was already in full swing with the equally lively and enthusiastic crowd, couples swirling and moving effortlessly on the polished marble floor. With Anna Henrietta at the other side, conversing wildly with some who looked foreign with their dark skin and brown hair, probably Nazair, surrounded by an impressive amount of guards with all the people already crowding the area to the brink.

Geralt sighed loudly. 

It didn’t take long before he found himself sipping on the almost infinite amount of wine at one of the refreshments tables, surrounded by vacuous conversations and laughter, the women covered in jewels and the men in mostly black and white decorative attires. At least the table was conveniently close to the Duchess, still not noticing him, which was a damn relief. Even if he had no idea what to do since Regis still wasn't here, which was nerve-wracking.

_What the fuck was taking such a long time?_

He heaved out a long, defeated sigh again and sipped on his wine, leaning against the table and crossing his legs.

“My my, the master witcher. Attempting to find heinous minor monsters on the refreshments table, are you?” A higher-pitched voice said wryly right beside him.

Geralt flinched and drew in a slow, even breathe to hide his surprise. He hadn’t even heard any steps nearing him. Turning to his side, amused, hazel eyes stared back at him. He could recognize that tint of red hair anywhere in Toussaint, but the hairstyle was different this time. Loose. _Orianna._

He blinked at her.

“What are you doing _here_?” Geralt asked, startled, gesturing accusingly at her with his glass.

“Participating in the event, of course,” Orianna replied dully, adjusting some of her bracelets to their accurate position. Her new dress was in a glamorous, dark olive-green with meticulous silver details draped smoothly over her figure, reaching almost to the marble floors of the Palace and covering her equally matched olive-green high-heels.

Geralt threw her skeptical, narrowed eyes.

“Dunno if you noticed, but kinda the wrong place if you wanna keep a low status. It’s a ball full of humans. You know. _The kind who hunts you?”_ Geralt continued dryly.

Orianna tsk’ed at him. “I do not know if it is endearing or disheartening that you reckon I’m the only vampire amidst these humans.”

Geralt froze and almost dropped his wineglass, whisking his head around to the dancefloor, and stared into the crowd.

Colorful dresses swirled all over the room along with refined and detailed waistcoats. Figures all humanoid. Nothing to indicate they were anything else than humans.

Geralt sharpened his eyes, squinting at some of them with long, white gloves, which seemed rather thick in material. Almost as if to cover something.

A man lifted his gaze, looking directly into his eyes and throwing him a small, pleased smirk. He was almost sure he saw a flash of white, pointy teeth.

His heart dropped to his stomach.

It wasn’t anything he had expected, not after Dettlaff. He had thought they would at least try to keep a low profile. And here they were as if nothing had happened, flaunting their ever immortal and careless lifestyles. A room full of higher vampires. Several vindictive higher vampires. Towards Regis.

“How many?” Geralt asked, breathless, trying to hide the panic.

Orianna swirled the glass of wine in her hand idly, staring slyly at the small whirlpools.

“Only a few, but something tells me it is still far more than you had even expected, as well noticed,” She leveled a piercing, hazel gaze right into his eyes. “Maybe I have been too quick with the entitlement of _master witcher?”_

Geralt's stomach flipped, blood draining from his face. He had led Regis into a death trap.

“Shouldn’t have asked Regis to come here. Need to warn him, I - ” He rambled and pulled himself straight, walking briskly from the table.

Orianna grabbed his wrist, yanking him back with her inhuman strength.

“Geralt. As you delicately put it, there are humans - _everywhere._ We would not risk it for a dilemma which can be sorted through other means. Not to mention, he knows already,” Orianna threw him a pointed look, unwavering.

Then it suddenly hit him. The attempt to avoid going to the event in his corporeal form. Where everyone could recognize him. Especially other higher vampires.

Geralt ran a tired hand over his face. He should have realized this sooner. He should have known with all the damn vampires after Regis. Of course Regis would try to avoid something that would include the other higher vampires in Beauclair, the ones who wanted to kill him. But Regis was calculating and selfless, the sort of person who wouldn't tell the truth if that would jeopardy someone else's life, someone important, like the Duchess of Toussaint. Because he knew Geralt would be distracted and try to protect him instead of the Duchess.

“How many higher vampires even live in the city?” Geralt asked and flickered wary glances all over the place.

“A few,” Orianna said coyly, sounding amused, her lips slightly curling. “This is our original place after all. It is bound to create a sense of sentimentality.”

He wouldn't really know, not really remembering his first home, being carried to Kaer Morhen shortly after his birth. But it seemed those places always had a nostalgic aura clinging to them, feeling younger and reminiscent about what was once was. Even for powerful creatures like higher vampires, who had scattered across the world, trailing into nothing but myths and legends.

Lurking in the shadows.

Regis had just said that vampires didn’t really care about human's affairs. That it was too much work. Annoying. But men had fought more obstacles to reach power. It didn’t add up. Almost as if they were planning something. Not to mention them being dangerously low in numbers.

“So many touching feelings to this place and still you haven’t enslaved us all? I’m surprised,” Geralt said wryly.

Orianna’s lips widened into a tiny smirk that chilled his bones.

“Why should we? All that copious amount of work. We have enough with our own kind to tend to,” Orianna said simply. The same answer as always, no matter who he asked among the higher vampires. As if it was rehearsed.  

“Sure, because there are so many of you. Don’t believe that for a second, sorry,” Geralt said brusquely. “Why even is that?”

Her eyelids dipped, humming in intrigue.

“My, a witcher wishing to fraternize with a monster? _Know our side of the story?_ ” Orianna rolled silkily on the words, peering a little closer, and Geralt fought against the urge to back away. She took an idly sip on the wine, keeping the glass to her lips. “We had regulations for child-bearing in our own world. Otherwise, as you can imagine, we would overpopulate the world in a matter of a few centuries with our long lifespans. Here, however, it is much more due to empathy.”

Geralt couldn’t help his confusion. “Empathy?”

Orianna raised a haughty eyebrow.

“Contrary to witchers’ beliefs of us as callous monsters, we do not desire to bring our children into an unfit world, unable to truly fulfill their needs. We do not wish to admit it, but we are slowly crumbling along with this withering world. If not in body, then in spirit,” Orianna tapped on the glass with her pale fingers, expression turning grim and distant. “But maybe that will change now when the white frost is finally not hollering on our doorstep.”

Geralt stilled, going all cold.

How the hell did Orianna know that Ciri had stopped the white frost? Or know about the white frost at all?

_Superior when it comes to information centering on the affairs of Beauclair._

Geralt was beginning to feel it was an understatement. And she still hadn't answered his first question. But then again, no other higher vampire he had met had done it either, always circulating it in some way.

“Guess I’ll pick up my retired witcher blades then in case new higher vampires gonna pop up soon,” Geralt said drily, without any real heat in it, leaving Orianna alone on her throne of secrets.

Orianna's pale eyes gleamed up at him even if the entire room was bright as daylight.

“ _Hm._ I guess I shall keep an eye out for you then," Orianna’s eyes suddenly flickered to the opposite side of the room, a smirk growing on her lips. “Oh my. I did not expect him to put on the appearance of his younger years.”

Geralt frowned and followed Orianna's gaze.

A middle-aged man had entered the antechamber in a raven-black velvet jacket embroidered with vague golden petals and roses, highlighting the man’s pointy cheekbones and the pale pallor into a lighter, more sophisticated shade of grey.

_Regis._

Geralt’s mouth went all dry.

Regis didn’t wear his familiar satchel or the thick, leather gloves, revealing the sharp and immaculate nails, and the pale, unmarred skin, like an aristocrat with trimmed nails. A clean, black pair of leather boots stretched to his knees, and an embroided, immaculate shirt with dark blue flowers clung to his lithe figure, tucked into some black, spotless pants.

Geralt just stared, completely gobsmackered, not even noticing it until Regis' black eyes locked onto his.

Regis’ mouth quirked into a wide grin that threatened to expose his sharp row of fangs, directed completely at him.

Geralt’s heart swooped harshly, biting on the insides of his mouth to keep a face of indifference.

At least he wasn't the only one staring. Most of the guests discreetly rotated their heads towards Regis, some fluttering their eyelashes and folding-fans in a higher velocity. But Regis seemed to be completely fixed on Geralt, strolling towards him in one seemingly swift movement, without breaking eye-contact. Geralt only stood there as if he was trapped by his own Yrden sign, unable to look away, vaguely hearing the voices of the others in the room.

Regis didn’t stop until he was right in front of him.

“Geralt,” Regis said lowly, grinning at him. “I see you have managed to survive this banquet so far. I’m happy.”

Geralt continued to just stare dumbfounded at Regis. Regis looked younger. Much younger. His wrinkles smoother, the weary aura gone, and the hair slightly darker and neatly into place.

_What the hell._

Orianna harrumphed elegantly at their side, her eyes curved. “Ever the pleasure Regis.”

Something like frustration dashed across Regis' face before he faced Orianna fully.

“Orianna,” Regis greeted with a small, tense smile. “I am pleased to observe your currently secluded lifestyle does not prevent you from attending boisterous events as well.”

“Naturally. It would be scandalous to not, but you must excuse me. I have other matters to attend. Yet, I have the feeling my departure will not be terribly missed,” Her lips quirked into an unnerving, smug smile and looked at Regis, amused. “A discrete retreat should be rather wise.”

Regis regarded Orianna in silence for a moment, blank. “Of course. Thank you.”

Orianna gave Regis a considering look, then sauntered past him and into another room, unruffled. It only took a few seconds before a cluster of young men swarmed around her _. A lioness among lambs._

Geralt eyed her suspiciously, following her until she disappeared from their sight. She hadn’t needed him for socializing, that much was clear, and she hadn’t interrogated him either. _What had she been doing?_

“Thought all higher vampires had fangs and sharp nails. You know. To scare puny, little humans like me,” Geralt said, heavy with sarcasm.

Regis huffed out a soft laugh and shifted his position, leaning on the table beside him.

“Actually, she does. An easy feature to oversee, so no offense to your adept skills of course, as solely her incisors and nails are sharper than what is considered ordinary. Though smaller and shorter than mine. A feature of the female kind among us,” Regis explained, staring into the crowd.

Geralt turned his head towards Regis, grinning. “So. In a way. You got the antlers in your kin. To show off.”

“Mhm,” Regis agreed with the same derision. “I can only hope it attracts the _right_ sort of attention,” He sent a meaningful sidelong gaze, the mouth lifting into a lop-sided smirk.

Geralt knitted his eyebrows together, not entirely sure what Regis meant by that, letting it slip into a minute of silence and watching Regis' clothing discreetly from the side instead. Guess it explained why it had taken such a long time in town, personally fitted attire by the looks of it, sitting snuggly to Regis' entire, lean build. No wounds or markings to suggest a fight somewhere, only pale, smooth skin in contrast to the black and blue colors of his attire. He looked - _good._

He swallowed heavily and looked away. 

“So what now?” Geralt asked, voice a bit raspy.

“Now we shall reconnoiter the area, keeping close to her ever-so Enlightened Duchess,“ Regis replied simply.

Which was easier said than done.

The people had multiplied quickly in the past minutes, to a point it was almost excessively crammed even if it was a ridiculously large room, but it wouldn’t be able to hold half of Beauclair’s population. And still it was somehow possible for couples to dance in front of the orchestra, people pressing themselves to the walls or strolling to the other rooms and gardens if they couldn’t fit the space outside the dancing area.

Geralt drew the wineglass closer to him, sighing for what seemed the hundredth time, because he had no idea how they would ever manage to find the potentially revenge-hungry vampire in the rooms, if she even was here at all. There were a lot of black-haired women in the room. Everyone wearing expensive masks and too far away to see if said woman had blue eyes.

And even if higher vampires did secrete a certain scent, it was masked by perfumes and the abundance of smells blending together in the room would make it hard even for Regis to distinguish them.

“We must move. She has found new company. Near the Orchestra,” Regis' voice jerked Geralt from his thoughts.

He dragged his gaze to the Orchestra, seeing what Regis meant. The throng of people around the dancing area prevented them from seeing the Duchess clearly from here, and probably everywhere else too unless they found some elevated spots, but there weren’t any.

Geralt cursed lowly. “Dammit. Can’t track her with all these people in the way even if we change location.”

Regis stared thoughtfully at the crowd, and then his eyes seemed to lit up, turning on his heel to face him, and smirked all of the sudden, something dangerous and roguish, but said nothing.

Geralt cocked an eyebrow.

“What?” Geralt asked, glancing worryingly at Regis.

Regis took a few steps closer until he stood almost in front of Geralt, a meter away, and leaned his torso forward into a – _bow._ His right hand levitated in the air as an open invitation to grab it, sharp nails pointing upwards. Regis' eyes tilted upwards, sparkling eagerly at him. “May I have this dance, monsieur Geralt?”

Geralt choked on the residue drink in his throat, staring with wide-opened eyes, alarmed and speechless. “You can’t be serious.”

Muscles twitched at the corners of Regis' mouth.

“As death. Unless you see any better alternative in this throng of people?” Regis said, a bit smug, never even once averting his intent eyes from Geralt.

“No. But –“ Geralt managed in a rasp, searching frantically around the room.

The room was packed with swirling pairs in front of the Orchestra and beneath the crystal chandeliers. Even the space outside the dancefloor was crammed with circles of aristocrats speaking eagerly with each other. It would take one damn long time to get past them, especially since the crowd grew thicker around the Duchess by each second, almost too thick to even ram through which had been his original plan.

Geralt wanted to stroke his face in frustration.

“I don’t dance,” Geralt grunted weakly.

Regis grinned, tsking at him.

“Ah, of course, the excuse humans resort to whenever they try to hide the fact they do not possess the knowledge of how to dance, but worry not, as it’s precisely why I shall personally lead this delightful waltz,” Regis straightened his posture and took several steps closer to him, grinning predatorily.

“Rather have you hover above as a puff of fog than dancing,” Geralt snarked, backing away, only to stumble into some aristocrats.

“Watch your steps sire!” One of the male aristocrats in a gathering hissed.

“Sorry.” Geralt murmured, not really remorseful, while Regis just continued to follow his every retreating step.

“And deprive myself of a fascinating new hands-on experience? I would not dream of it,” Regis continued in a silky voice.

Geralt knew it. He knew Regis had gone mad from reading all those old tomes. This was just official evidence.

Regis sighed, still following him. Geralt considered throwing the wine on him for a second. “It might be hard to believe, I know, but I am actually not trying to humiliate you. This would be the least conspicuous option to keep an eye on Her Grace and search the area for the vampire we seek.”

 _He begged to differ._ Geralt swallowed. “Don’t even dance with Yennefer, you know.”

Regis flashed him white, gleeful teeth.

“ _Well,_ I’m sure this has not bypassed you notion, but –“ Closing the final distance between them, Regis grabbed the wine glass from Geralt's hand, _dammit his plan B_ , and placed it on a table to their side, catching one of Geralt's hands to intertwine them together and placing the other on Regis' shoulder. The soft, warm skin wrapped around his. Regis’ voice dropped an octave, eyes reflecting Geralt’s scarred face as he said; “ _I am not Yennefer_.”

Geralt’s breath hitched and his body was suddenly pulled flush against Regis' lean build, shoulders to hip, and a hand traveled down to settle on his waist, sending a trail of heat with it.

Regis' warm breath tickled his skin, the strong scent of spices flooding and surrounding him. He could only stare, still completely shocked, heart hammering.

Regis watched him just intensely with a secretive, strange smile and Geralt realized he had just been staring, standing there like an idiot, while Regis had waited for a final answer, an acceptance. His stomach decided to flip uncontrollably.

Geralt cleared his throat, finding it hard to speak.

“Bend me over like some fair maiden and I’ll remodel your face with my fist,” Geralt rasped out, feeling as if he needed to state boundaries.

Regis chuckled darkly and beady eyes looked mischievously at him, tugging on Geralt's heartstrings. “Sorry Geralt. But I shall make no promises, because that, my dear fellow, entirely depends on the circumstances.”

Before Geralt could open his mouth to protest, he was dragged out from the crowded mass of people and into the dancefloor, chest-to-chest, stealing his breath and almost falling over by the sheer force yanking him along. The hand at his waist ushered him to the middle of the floor with the rest of the swirling pairs and guided him to follow Regis’ elegant steps, maneuvering them closer to the Duchess at the other end of the room.

Regis moved as if he hadn’t done much else in his lifetime. His body elegant and nimble, moving gracefully across the floor in swift and fluid movements, the steps precise and thoughtfully coordinated. The waistcoat fluttered behind him as they swirled around the others, undulating smoothly just like Regis whenever he transitioned to the next step.

Geralt felt a flicker of jealously, but most of him could only stare helplessly at Regis.

He tried to match his awkwardly steps with Regis, stepping clumsily after him and passing several of the other couples' equally swirling attires. Just damn thankful he was still standing upright without managing to step on anyone’s feet yet.

Heated whispers from the bystanders followed them, everyone staring at them with an odd look. Even if it wasn’t entirely new for people of the same sex to dance together.

“This just feels awkward on my part,” Geralt mumbled, feeling uneasy under everyone's stares.

Regis grin widened, eyes bright as he leaned forward, decreasing the distance further between them.

Geralt’s heart twisted violently.

“You contemplate too much of it all, Geralt. In point of fact, this is not very different from your contracts. Always trying to keep one step ahead of your future trophy,” Regis instructed playfully, whisking him around in a circle with upsetting ease, and added in a darker voice. “Thus, it all leads to one simple question. _What is my next move as your contracted monster?"_

His mouth felt suddenly dry as hell, the gaze too intense.

"Hopefully releasing me from this torture," Geralt grumbled, looking down at their feet.

Regis huffed out a laugh and warm air hit his skin, reminding Geralt how close they were. Suddenly it was hard to breathe too. "Alas, I feel the company is a dash too - _captivating_  to let it go from my grasp. Besides, I wager once you get into the flow, you will actually most likely find it all rather enjoyable.”

Geralt snorted. As if. Easy for someone with practice in this area to say.

“Doubt that will ever happen. There isn’t anything logical about dancing, just a bunch of random steps,” Geralt said petulantly.

Regis tsk'ed playfully at him.

“Which I would hazard a guess is the source of your problem. You have to _feel,_ Geralt. _Not think_ ," Regis said darkly, drawing him even closer to Regis' face with the hand on his waist. "It is all part of a natural rhythm. Alike all movements, they are intuitive and instinctive.”

His heart pounded desperately like it wanted to escape from him.

Geralt took a deep breath, trying to calm down his beating heart and focus on how ridiculous this entire thing was instead. The warm hands on his waist and hand, the wry smile on Regis’ lips, the close distance between them, realizing that he did not exactly mind it or make his heart calmer.

He frowned, not really understanding it, and lifted his gaze to find the Duchess instead, spotting her moving to another side of the room and disappearing into the mass.

“Shit, she is getting away. Need to get more to the left,” Geralt managed to rasp out.

Regis huffed, but looked smug.

“Permit me to surprise you then,” Regis abruptly changed their direction to the other side, still making it look natural despite all the other pairs which moved towards other locations. Geralt could only let himself be pulled along, stumbling more heavily at the sudden new turn. ”As I’m actually rather proficient at performing several tasks simultaneously. Of course, the company is rather riveting, but then again – ” Regis' expression seemed to sharpen, and he flashed a quick, smug grin. “ _I am no ordinary person._ ”

Geralt stumbled at that, but Regis caught him in the middle of it, whisking them to the side, and bent Geralt like the rest of the women on the dancefloor.

Regis loomed over him, covering almost his entire view. Geralt looked up in shock, mouth to dry to speak, heart thrashing against his chest. He stared right into those pitch-black eyes, the lips only a few centimeters from him, warm breath hitting his face. Only the distant movements anchored him back to reality, feeling the rush of blood creep up on his neck.

Geralt growled, trying to get up. “Dammit Regis! Told you not to-“

“Geralt,” Regis broke in, holding him tight in the same position.

“What?” Geralt snapped.

“Her Grace’s dress should beckon quite alike a star,” Regis pointed out reasonably.

Geralt realized the logic behind it, even if it was still damn humiliating.

Bending his neck back, he stared into the mass of boisterous dresses and attires, the various colors and embroidery reflecting on the spotless marble floors. But in the right corner, there was one dress that shone even brighter than the other dresses, more meticulous details and jewelry. “To the right.”

He was quickly hauled up along with the rest of the women in the area, finding himself inches apart from Regis face instead.

His breath hitched, stomach fluttering.

“Now, that was not too difficult, was it?” Regis murmured lowly, a flicker of amusement crossing his face, moving and spinning them around on the floor again with ease.

Geralt tried to send an unimpressed look at Regis, slightly distracted by the summersaults in his stomach, the closeness, the mirth, _Regis._

The strange pair of the two, two men in which one couldn’t take a step to save his goddamn life while Regis moved gracefully across the floor, the distressed eyes in contrast to the confident and amused eyes, the human and the vampire.

Regis smiled fondly at him. A tiny smile, probably insignificant to most, but something cracked inside of him, as if an old gear put to life again, the pounding blood loud in his ears.

Then the music suddenly slowed down and everything around it. Geralt heard a distant sound of clapping in the distance and voices thanking their partners. A vague voice in the back of his mind whispered to imitate them, and he would, if he was there.

He was still where they were still dancing around each other, following each other’s movements. Their poses hadn’t changed, frozen, and Geralt stared into Regis' eyes, feeling Regis' skin more clearly against his hand. Regis just stood there, radiating heat in the already warm atmosphere and staring equally intensely into his eyes.

Geralt found himself unable to look away, feeling as if there was almost no space between the two of them. No time. Both just staring and waiting, barely flexing any muscle, with the distance between them decreasing somehow, bit by bit.

Movement. A woman’s detailed, bright dress was stirring in the distance, out of his peripheral view. He recognized that garment. He was supposed to do something else. Something important. _What the hell was –_   

“The Duchess!” Geralt spluttered, pulling himself back.

Regis froze and straightened his posture, the glint in his eyes disappearing into those black pools. Geralt thought he saw several emotions flash past Regis’ face almost all at once, disappointment, relief, frustration, before it turned blank, emotionless. He knew that face too well, trying to veil emotions. Hide his secrets.

Geralt clenched his jaw, feeling like he had missed something. Something important, but Regis stepped away from him and dropped both of his clawed hands along with the moment, turning away from Geralt.

Regis went eerily quiet, taking a bit too long to scrutinize the area.

Geralt turned his head towards Regis, meeting worried and anxious eyes.

“I cannot locate her,” Regis said breathlessly, his voice quivering slightly.

A sharp pang of panic hit Geralt, making his lungs ache.

He darted his gaze frantically around the room, not finding The Duchess anywhere either, just a bunch of other humans. It felt as if all blood was being drained from him. _Shit._

Geralt sprinted from the dance floor with Regis at his heels and pushed his way through the crowd to the place where he had previously seen her.

“Anyone see where the Duchess went?!” Geralt shouted, but most of the people around just stared as puzzled back at him, almost if they hadn’t noticed her departure either.

“Some manners would not hurt, young man,” An aristocrat man grunted, raising his chin. “The man must have been raised by brutes.”

“Sire, with the utmost respect-“

Geralt growled, shoving them to the side. The Duchess couldn’t have gotten far with her being in the room just moments ago. Although, that wouldn't matter if Evelyn had already taken her, one strike was all it took.

He cursed, barreling through the crowds and ignoring all the shouts at him, the adrenaline humming in his veins as he hurried through the rooms and darting frantic eyes all over the grounds. Still nowhere to be found. 

“Move!” Geralt hissed at a few dense groups blocking the way, near the bottom of the stairs to the second floor of the building.

“She retreated to her quarters upstairs,” A familiar voice said, lifting her olive-green dress and rushing beside them, _Orianna._

Geralt stared bewildered at her, but made a sharp turn to make his way up the stairs.

“Why would she retreat upstairs?” Geralt asked frantically, ascending the wide, elongated stairs by taking two steps at once.

“Not exactly the time, nor place to ponder such deep mysteries,” Orianna responded dryly as they reached the top of the stairs and he realized he had no idea where he was really going, until Orianna turned to the right and Geralt could only follow her, having no other choice, rushing past several oil paintings and chandeliers with her.

It all seemed intact, all in the same pristine condition as always, though with no people around to watch it. Nothing to suggest something had happened. Almost quiet and calm. _Too_ quiet and vacant of people for a ball.

“Did anyone follow her?” Regis asked warily, right beside him, all of them continuing down the hall towards the Duchess’ chambers.

“Who does not trail the Duchess in Toussaint?” Orianna said flatly.

A metallic scent struck Geralt’s nose when they reached the end of the corridor.

It sent a chill down his spine. “Smell that?”

“Blood,” Regis confirmed gravely, eyes wide, and transformed into a black mist without a warning, traveling more quickly towards the Duchess' room, already disappearing around the corner before Geralt could even open his mouth.

Geralt cursed, lengthening his strides to catch up, with Orianna right behind him.

Geralt made another sharp turn and stopped directly in his tracks.

Ducal guards were scattered along the long corridor. Blood covered the walls and fleshy, torn limbs had been tossed across the floor, blood flowing from the corpses onto the previously spotless floor.

Regis leaned against one of the walls, shivering furiously and breathing heavily, and covered his nostrils with one of his hands. Eyes half-lidded, dazed.

And in the middle of the corridor, there was a tall figure.

Pitch-black glimmered in the light. Elongated claws covered in blood.

_Evelyn._

The door to the Duchess's chambers was completely shut, several corpses in front of it, without any dress among them.

A distorted, gaunt visage turned around, locking its slithered eyes on them. Ice-blue eyes flinched at the sight, snarling at them with fangs splattered with dark blood, and sprinted towards the other side of the corridor.

Geralt withdrew his silver sword and hurried after her, but the figure changed into a blue-grey mist, seeping through a window to the Palace gardens.

“Dammit!” Geralt shouted, stopping in front of the wall with no doors and shifting his gaze between Regis and window. There was no way he could just leave him in this condition.

Geralt turned on his heel to face Orianna. “Could your watchers track her?”

“A better alternative would for me to follow her,” Orianna said drily, eying Regis. “But – “

“Go! I’ll handle it!” Geralt ushered her, waving an impatient hand towards the window.

Orianna narrowed her sharp, hazel eyes on him, before she swiftly transformed into a red-like mist and rushed out of the window, leaving them behind.

Geralt stopped for a mere moment, looking desperately between the intact door slammed shut to the Duchess' chambers and Regis pulling up a handkerchief from his pocket to his nose, staggering slowly and forehead glistening with sweat, each breath a dark hiss. He knew he should check on the Duchess, see if she was still alive with basically no sound coming inside the room, at the same time as he couldn’t just abandon Regis. Previous blood-addict. _Surrounded by blood. Lots of it._

Sharp nails dug into the wall, ripping markings down through the tapestry, followed by a long, pained groan, and then there was no question at all. Never really had been.

“Regis?” Geralt said warily, decreasing the distance between them. Regis just curled his upper lip back, baring his fangs. “Regis!”

Regis’ eyes snapped open, bloodshot sclera and wide-black irises staring fixedly at him.

“ _Stay away from me_.” Regis hissed in a low, dark voice, nothing like the regular tone, glaring at him with half-lidded eyes and staggering back, increasing the distance. “I cannot know what I will do. The blood – ” He broke off and snapped his fangs together with a click, shutting his eyes as a whole-body shiver seemed to go through him.

Geralt cursed and looked around. There was another corridor a few meters from them, in the direction towards the back of the Palace. He just hoped it lead to a back door, but there was really no choice.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Geralt said and put the silver sword in the hilt on his back, walking with more determined steps towards Regis.

Regis opened one eye, the dark, predatorily iris fixing on him, shaking his head. “No. T - The Duchess.”

“Can check on her later. You’re the one who needs help right now,” Geralt said simply, closing the final distance with Regis hissing and trying to stagger away from him, but he was too slow and suddenly fell towards the floor as another shiver ran through.

Geralt caught him, slinging one of Regis’ arms over his shoulders and snaking his own arm to take a steady grip on Regis’ waist.

Regis panted heavily, body slumping towards him. “Geralt, I beg of you. I cannot –“

“Don’t care. Getting you out of here. No buts,” Geralt cut in and supported Regis as they stumbled down the corridor, turning at the intersection which hopefully led to the gardens of the Palace, with fewer humans.

Regis was sweating profusely and the lips twitched relentlessly to reveal his fangs, but he didn’t care, just continued to haul Regis towards the end of the corridor, beginning to see a door. It wouldn’t be far from the Palace gardens now.

A wave of dizziness struck him all of the sudden, the world spinning and whirling around in just a second before his back and head hit something hard, solid.

He refocused his eyes, realizing he was pinned to the wall with his arms locked tight in position. More accurately, Regis was pinning him to the wall, long, pointy claws extending almost down to the floor and crimson, inhuman eyes staring fixedly at him.

“ _Damnit_ ,” Geralt hissed, trying to break the grip without even managing to move an inch. He had let his guard down. Regis had warned him about this.

Regis' face was all wrinkly and gaunt, ears longer and pointy, the similar bat-like structure all over him, breathing heavily in front of his face with a flash of teeth that were more like spikes. 

Geralt squirmed and pushed against the grip around his arms, kicking Regis’ feet in a weak attempt to make him lose his balance, but the grip just tightened around Geralt’s arms instead.

A low growl rattled inside of Regis’ throat, squinting his eyes into slits and mouth parting to bare his full row of sharp teeth.

 _Shit._ He was in really damn deep shit. He didn’t stand a fucking chance against a higher vampire without his swords, _or arms for that matter._

Geralt reached for a silver dagger under his shirt, tucked in his trousers, with his lower arms still being able to move slightly. But before he could even grasp around the handle, Regis descended to his exposed neck in an inhuman speed.

His stomach dropped, trying to reel back and trash against the grip, only to feel the wall pushing back more firmly. Trapped between the stone bricks and Regis’ unbending figure.

He closed his eyes. Regis would never forgive him for this.

But teeth never came, a hot, damp breath tickling his skin instead.

Geralt tried to rotate his head, see what the hell was going on, receiving another low growl that vibrated in the air, enough for him to feel it, more like a rumble this time. A warning.

Regis inhaled boisterous breaths, leaning closer to his neck with his nose almost touching the skin. Maybe Regis recognized him, regaining some of his senses.

“Regis?” Geralt asked tentatively.

Regis opened his mouth, the teeth scraping softly against his neck and damp air hitting his skin.

 _“Cryae rasein esad dae aine!”_ Yennefer’s voice shouted at the other end of the corridor, steps running frantically towards them.

Regis ripped himself from Geralt's neck, hissing a shrill cry at Yennefer.

A second later the room flashed white, the weight pinning him to the wall vanishing along with someone landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Squinting his eyes, he could vaguely distinguish the form of Yennefer and the lightening bursting in a small bubble above her hands, with Regis twitching on the floor as if he had been electrocuted.

“Yen,” Geralt managed in a rasp, relief washing over him, before they were all teleported through a portal.

* * *

 

_Amazing fanart created by siilidoodles - Check out the full drawing + the lineart at her tumblr account[here](http://siilidoodles.tumblr.com/post/159531733157/yowzie-miyadoodles-the-strange-pair-of-the) and give them + her love! _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little late upload. I've been working simultaneously on a Gravity Falls fanfic of mine after watching the show for the first time just recently (which completely snatched my muse), but I'll be working the entire summer on this fic as well!

Geralt groaned. He felt like he had downed an entire barrel of the Duchess’ exclusive Sangreal, muscles aching in places he never thought could ache. His eyes were still squeezed tightly closed, afraid of the consequences even if he tried to squint through his eyelids to observe the situation. Someone was in the room though, wrenching a washcloth beside him, quite _aggressively._

He tried to open one of his eyes, which made the headache greet him more warmly at the action, causing him to clench the innocent sheets beneath him in an attempt to transfer the pain. But he could still vaguely distinguish the raven-black haired woman in the otherwise whirling room, Yen, looking absolutely livid.

“Oh good. You’re alive. In good _pain,_ I hope?” Yennefer said dryly with a thinly veiled biting disdain. “Almost considered fetching a monster to place underneath your nose, knowing your knack for sniffing the opportunity to satisfy your hero complex, no matter your state,” She added, her entire face wrinkling as if she had recently found a corpse in their living room. He was _pretty sure_ he had not brought any trophies around lately.

“W – Wh –“ He coughed at his incredibly dry mouth, as if it had been dabbed with cotton. “What happened?”

Yennefer curled back her upper lip in aversion, smacking the wrenched, slightly wet cloth on his forehead. He flinched, the pounding headache began to feel almost life-threatening now.

“Oh, nothing in particular, you know, the _regular occasion._ You, trying to play the hero while I’m running behind to clear the mess you littered on the ground,” Yennefer drawled in feigned politeness. Geralt only frowned at the empty ceiling with thick timbers, trying to remember what could have infuriated Yennefer this time. Even if the list was possibly endless, and everything was foggy and distant at the moment. What had he even been doing for the past few days? All he remembered was –

Then everything from yesterday suddenly hit him with full force, causing him to wheeze as the memories flashed before his eyes. The ball. The butchered guards. _Regis._

Geralt’s eyes slammed wide open, trying to throw up his upper body in the bed. He had to find Regis. He had become feral. He could be –

“Lie down,” Yennefer pushed him back to their bed, sending a warning glance at him when he tried to open his mouth and struggle beneath the delicate fingers. “Regis is _fine._ No thanks to you. In pain, but fine.”

Right. The portal. The magic. He still had no clue what Yen had actually cast on Regis, but he had a hunch that Yennefer would not explain it as she always thought they were too complicated for his brain to comprehend. All that mattered was that it had apparently worked.

He sighed and lifted his hand to drag it over his weary face, sensing the tension drain from his shoulders. No wonder he felt as if a fiend had gored him several times and thrown him off a cliff for good measure. He hated portals for a good reason. All that pulling on molecules and shit.

Geralt lifted his eyes, meeting the cold lilac irises that stared intensely at him, dark circles covering her otherwise impeccable features. She was still in the long, elegant dress in black tones from yesterday, suggesting she had been watching him all night. Worried. Too anxious to change. Probably wondering if Regis had done any internal damage on him. He could imagine how Yennefer had tried to pull every kind of spell merely to examine his condition.

“Guess he isn’t feral anymore?” He began tentatively.

“No. The change of environment does wonders for your complexion at times,” She sneered and rose from the chair, hair untamed in the stagnant room, picking up the bowl of water to place it near a jug of water on the desk instead. The cracking pot echoed ominously in the room when she placed it down with more force than necessary. She just stood there, for several seconds, hands clenching to the edges of the furniture.

Geralt tried to speak, but Yennefer suddenly turned around, the eloquent dress twirling eagerly around her.

“What the hell were you even thinking?!” She snarled, storming towards him to tower menacingly over him. He could almost feel the anger radiating from her, making him want to curl further into the bed to put as much distance between them as possible.

He swallowed, steeling himself. “Yen –“

 _“Not. A. Word,”_ Yennefer hissed. Each word cut like a sharp knife against his throat and Geralt pressed his lips into a thin line, and then she stormed to the other side of the room again, putting her hands on her hips, back faced him.

Silence, hot and heavy, hung in the air. Geralt opened his mouth to speak, only to hesitate, not really knowing what to say and it had never been a good idea to argue with Yen during one of her anger tantrums.

Yennefer took a deep breath, then another. Shoulders sharp enough to cut, before they began to slump down.

“I’m trying to decide whether witchers’ brains were rendered into a meaningless lump of fat during the trials of grasses or if you are just an ordinary senseless imbecile, running after a full-fledged higher vampire on your own!” Yennefer said through gritted teeth, rotating her black-curled head to not let him fill in the space. “You. Are. Not. _Invincible._ Do you understand that Geralt? You could have ended up just like –“ She abruptly slammed her mouth shut, instantly flashing an expression of regret when she saw Geralt's expression.

 _Vesemir,_ was left unspoken.

The name was still bitter in his mouth. A slap to his face would have been gentler, hot streams of pain tugged at his chest, re-experiencing his whole world being turned upside down once again. The wound was still sore and raw, too fresh. If it would ever be healed. He still kept the crossbow he had received during the Griffin hunt in White Orchard as a memento, even if it was useless in battles and hunts. It was always with him. Just as Vesemir had always been there for him.

Geralt trailed his eyes to the wall on the other side. “I did what I thought was the lesser of two evils.”

Yennefer sighed, eyes relaxing even if the raw emotions were still there.

“And that is the source of the problem Geralt. You make rash, impulsive decisions based on the present facts. What you feel is right at the moment. You overlook there is a future to be had. A future in which I rather not experience another cremation process, but you always put others before yourself. An action that additionally, indirectly, positions me in the last place with you,” Yennefer admitted, voice hollow and forlorn.

Geralt turned his head and looked at Yen stare out the window. She looked tired, damn tired.

The raw truth hit him harder than he thought, guilt curling and twisting ugly into a ball in his stomach, because he was the source of her pain.

He wanted to embrace her. He wanted to say that was not the case. Tell her that she meant everything to him. “You know that is not what I mean-“

“Stop with the damn excuses!” She boomed absolutely indignant, whisking around to reveal those stormy eyes. ”Perceive it from my perspective for once. You place others happiness before mine by heading straight into battle without a thought about the aftermath, regardless who awaits your, _preferable alive,_ arrival at home.”

Geralt found himself empty of words, not sure if mere words could breach the long bridge that was suddenly between them. He knew she was right. Always trying to help others no matter the stakes. No matter the costs. Not because he did not care about his life or those he left behind, but because he knew others needed him just as much. That he could help. That he could make some difference in this damn twisted, grim world.

Yennefer sighed, running a hand across her forehead. “Let’s just drop it before I lose my head. I can’t take this conversation right now.”

His heart constricted painfully, scrambling up on the bed to reach her.

“Please, Yen –“

 _“Don’t,”_ Yennefer said scathingly, eyes narrowed. “I need to be alone right now.” She said before conjuring another portal in the middle of the room, disappearing right before his eyes. He had failed her. Again.

No matter which evil he chose, it was always the wrong one.

He sighed in defeat, sitting now alone on the edge of the bed with merely the throbbing headache as company.

He rested his head on his hands.

_Fuck._

* * *

“You look like hell,” Geralt drawled.

Regis rotated on the divan, flickering his apprehensive eyes over Geralt's body. His’ pallor, usually sophisticatedly pale, had shaded into sickly hues of gray. Veins protruded on the deathly pale skin, sclera brimming with blood.

Regis merely huffed and turned his head back to the gaze despairingly over the valley, arms resting on his tunic-covered legs. 

“Sometimes I find myself pondering deep into the night if you were once cursed along your audacious expeditions to not utter a sheer word of refinement, as the mere utterance of such decorous response would have consequences. Consequences that would lead ultimately to your own death in such imaginative way it will put even Dandelion’s memoirs to shame,” Regis said wryly, wrinkles tense on his forehead.

Geralt snorted. Taking that as enough encouragement that Regis wouldn’t leap on him to finish Yen’s job, even if he had all right to do so, he strode over to the divan, dumping himself on the seat beside Regis.

“Nice to see you alive too,” Geralt quipped, trying to peer discreetly at Regis, still refusing to meet his eyes. Just. Staring right ahead at nothing in particular. “Take it you are pissed at me too.”

For a long moment, Regis didn't say anything, nothing to suggest he wasn't anything else than a walking corpse. The only sign of life was the contracting veins around his neck, ready to burst.

“I could have killed you Geralt,” Regis finally muttered, strained and hoarse.

Geralt flinched. Of all the answers, he had not expected this one. Anger. Disappointment. But the raw broken noise of Regis sent the already churning guilt into a hollow, empty void in his chest.

“But you didn’t,” Geralt replied quietly.

Regis sighed, looking chagrined, and raised his eyes heavenward.

"That's not - I could have - It wouldn't have been the worst - “ Regis stopped, sighing heavily. "Let’s not dwell on it. I have come to terms that you saw no choice in the particular situation,” He put a hand up in the air towards Geralt when he tried to open his mouth, still not looking at him. “I do not agree with the choice, but I see the necessity. Yet, I rather not have you risk your neck unnecessarily, because you are a friend, a _dear friend._ So dear, in fact, that I choose you before others passing, I always do.”

Regis exchanged a single, intent glance with Geralt, emphasizing the meaning.

Geralt's heart thudded loudly against his ribs, reminding him it was still working within him. No idea what to say to that, even if he knew all of this in a way. Regis always picked his side. Always came to his rescue. No matter the costs. Hell. He had even sacrificed himself during the Vilgefortz battle to save Geralt's life.

The distance between them was suddenly too close, too warm and just too much. His stomach skittered away without him, making it difficult to maintain a stoic face.

“Was that the reason why you didn’t attack me in your feral state? You recognized me somehow?” He managed, voice hoarse, throwing the focus back at Regis. 

An unreadable expression flashed across Regis' face, the lips scrunching up together as if he had sucked a lemon, and whisked his head away from Geralt. 

“In a sense, yes,” Regis replied in short.

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “Is this one of those vampiric things again that ‘leads towards the taciturn’ answers?”

Regis’s corner around the mouth twitched into a rueful half-smile.

“You read me correctly. My my, the old wolf is able to learn new tricks after all,” Regis teased, watching him with half-lidded eyes, but the humor was not quite there.

“Use less complicated words and I might just understand,” Geralt offered, half-jesting.

Regis shook his head and stared down at his lap, smile turning more genuine, unlike his eyes, reflecting a darker emotion.

“Perhaps later. For the moment I rather just enjoy this view during this spectacularly splitting headache,” Regis said softly, picking up a concoction from one of his pockets and drank from it, the muscles twitching slightly.

Geralt stared at Regis for several moments, but Regis appeared determined to not reveal anything.

It hurt. To not be able to do anything. To not know. As if he had not reached that point of trust yet. He swallowed hard, trying to choke down the lump of emotion that had appeared to permanently settle in his throat today.

“Guess Yen’s magic had quite the impact on you,” Geralt settled with in the end.

“To put it mildly,” Regis agreed, cracking his shoulders. “However, it would be erroneous to solely pinpoint the magic as the sole contributor to my condition.”

Geralt's eyebrows shot up in worried lines. “The blood still bothering you?”

“Well, at least I can daresay conclude my corporal predisposition to develop blood addiction is still within fair reach,” Regis took another sip from the concoction, still looking weary as hell. “In other words, it has not been quite the same after I digested that raven's blood. I have become more – responsive.”

Geralt flinched. He knew the raven had been a bad idea.

“As sensitive as in Tesham Mutna?” Geralt asked.

Regis shook his head, nose twitching at the memory. “No, nowhere close to it, but I am certainly not keen on spending my outings around severed human extremities and pools of blood in the near future either.”

“Not anyone’s idea of a fun holiday to be honest,” Geralt jested, missing a tankard of his own in his hands that had curled into fists between his legs. Hell, he really needed a drink after everything that had happened. And a break. One damn long break.

Regis chuckled deeply, the fangs showing.

“Oh, I do not know, I reckon some of our elders would agree to disagree,” Regis joked morbidly, raising his head to look at him again as if he was not merely another nuisance to his immortal lifespan. A warm sensation spread through Geralt's chest at that. “I take it Yennefer has taken an improvised vacation by the lack of her presence?”

And the guilt slapped him again, dragging his mouth down. “Yeah, not happy with that stunt of mine.”

Regis observed him intensely for a few moments.

“She will come around once her temper has alleviated. I’m certain of it,” Regis reassured, leaning in a little closer to him. Geralt tried to be nonchalant about it, but his heart betrayed him by stuttering.

More comfortable silence settled between them, merely staring at the rustling trees and bushes in the distance. Geralt took a deep breath of relief. Unlike Yennefer, Regis saw no point in dwelling on grudges and argue about his choices. He might not like them, but he saw the reasons behind them. He saw that mortal lives were a mere blink of an eye. It would waste the little time they had left together.

Which was much more comforting than it should be. 

“Any words from Orianna?” Geralt broke the silence.

“None. But not to worry, my fowls are surveying the region for both the vampires as we speak.”

“Guess that gives us more time to talk then.” Geralt said wryly.

Regis' face appeared to lighten up, grinning. “Oh? But how could I ever possibly enthrall you further? My personal charm seems to have done the work already.”

Geralt snorted.

“ _Sure._ But promised me to tell me all about Orianna some other day. And what do you know, it is some other day today,” He quipped, knowing that speaking about Regis' emotions was off the table. “Can’t really think that she is helping us out of mere altruism. There is some history behind it, probably regarding you. Past lover? Acquaintance?”

“No. She –“ Regis sighed heavily, faraway and dulled emotions churning in his eyes. “It is a rather complicated, hard to explain to a human."

"Then explain as if I was a vampire. Will try to keep up, might even surprise you," Geralt said facetiously.

Regis' right corner of the lip curled up, amused. "I've never doubted your intelligence, Geralt, but simply put, without dwelling on details, she was my brother’s mate.”

Geralt merely blinked, shocked into silence. It suddenly crashed on him how little he actually knew about Regis. Family ties. Background. What he had been doing only these _past centuries._

“You have a _brother?”_ Geralt said incredulously.

Regis' brow creased and mouth twisted into a grim smile. “Had. Hence, the past tense of Orianna’s affiliation position.”

Geralt’s throat felt very dry all of the sudden.

“Damn. I- I did not expect that,” Geralt mused, throat tight. “By the look on your face I take it did not end well?”

Regis grimaced.

“An implausible understatement of his demise,“ Regis stared transfixed at his clawed hands as if they were the culprits of all his wrongdoings, posture defeated, tinged with muted sadness. “Let’s just say that I did not jest when I said Orianna knows the burden of deciding when to end the life of those we hold dear. There is no ill will between us, bygones, but it is still a rather strained topic. Yet I daresay she still feels a bit of kinship." He paused. "Nonetheless, it has remained as a secret due to the anathema uproar it would otherwise cause, therefore I ask of you to maintain – ”

Regis suddenly stopped and his head perked up, sniffing vehemently in the air.

“What?” Geralt frowned, alarmed, and looked around, finally noticing a large amount of circling ravens above them, croaking distressingly.

“She – _They_ – are here,” Regis stated simply, rising quickly from his chair.

Geralt surged from his seat and reached for his silver sword, finding it wasn't there. It was still hanging on the wall. He cursed inwardly at the same moment as two eloquent and edgy-looking women sauntered through the gates of Corvo Bianco. The loose red hair contrasted heavily to the green surroundings, flowing violently in the air behind.

His eyes skittered over to the young woman at Orianna’s side, who tailed reluctantly along.

Long, wavy raven-colored hair which glistened in the midday sun, and dress just in the same color, perfectly tailored around her curves. Skin pale as death, which highlighted her cheekbones. Eyes ice-blue, chilling him to the bones by the sheer piercing nature of them.

Orianna had almost stepped into his personal bubble when he noticed her face. Minor gashes trailed across the cheeks, still not entirely healed, and scars that almost matched his own over the hazel eyes. Her aura was positively murderous.

“What happened to your face?” Geralt spluttered bluntly.

Orianna tightened her eyes, the upper lip curling back up to reveal one short, yet sharp incisor that Regis had mentioned during the ball. 

“My my, born and raised in finishing school, were you? I would inquire the same of you, but then I recalled it is your ordinary face,” Orianna deadpanned, sending an unpleasant smile and straightening her frock that was almost in shreds.

Geralt huffed. “Thought you vampires healed within moments?”

“We do, but unfortunately the young lady in this gathering is classified as the variant with venom in fangs _and_ claws, which is proving to be quite atrocious for my complexion,” Orianna scoffed accusingly.

“My deepest condolences, I must have forgotten that particularly warm vampiric welcoming gesture in which you lunge with claws extended. I’ll write it down in my _memoirs,_ ” The dark-haired vampire sneered and directed her piercing, ice-cold gaze at them.

_Corpses littered on the floor. Blood pouring unhelpfully on the corridor’s carpet._

“Geralt – ”

_A distorted, gaunt visage locking its slithered eyes on them._

“This is Evelyn Vernac-Ozerie –“

_Ice-blue eyes flinched at the sight, snarling at them with fangs splattered with dark blood._

“Zarach –“

“Sister!” Joseff's juvenile voice suddenly shouted with a trailing blue smoke, sprinting towards Evelyn, hugging her tightly around the middle. The dark, catty expression immediately altered to a small seraphic smile, resting one pale hand on the Joseff's back and the other one on the head to smooth the tousled hair.

“Hello there scamp,” Evelyn huffed, ruffling her work on Joseff's hair.

Joseff dug his face into her legs and then flinched, as if he had suddenly realized they were surrounded by three other people, scrutinizing them. He shot some anxious glance over at them. Eyes wide and vulnerable. “She isn’t in trouble is she?”

Geralt paused. _Yes._ Yes, she was. But dammit. He was getting fond of Joseff too.

“Depends entirely on her,” Geralt said diplomatically.

Evelyn glanced up at him and raised her chin in confidence at the new recognition, tightening her hold over Joseff.

“I’m here, am I not?” She drawled.

“Mhm, just as you were present in the corridor of the palace full with guards,” Geralt said drily.

“Such compassion that you stopped the err of my ways then?” Evelyn countered, not quite veiling the sneer behind it.

Geralt clenched his jaw, about to –

“ _Children,_ ” Orianna interrupted in a dry tone. “Let’s take this inside. You never know who is watching, especially not when you are escorting Toussaint’s most current wanted perpetrator.”

* * *

“Why aren’t we interrogating her? Got her right under our nose. Just sitting there,” Geralt said, following Evelyn's movements, feeling unease to simply let _the murderer_ of ducal guards roam around in the house. Even if she did nothing besides reading one of Yennefer’s magical books with Joseff in her lap, peering over his shoulders and both of them smiling at whatever they were reading.

He glimpsed over his shoulders to see Regis sighed at him, while Orianna straightened some old, dry parchment over the dining table that covered most of the space. Plates hustled together over the small area of the sides and other decorations had fallen to the floor. As if she was in a hurry, her posture rigid and tense.

“Please Geralt, you must trust us on this. Young vampires tend to have a – _high emotional spirit_ of sorts. Dettlaff was close to the term, but fledglings are _far_ worse. Let her have a moment of peace. The conversation will proceed far more calmly and professionally without everyone operating high on emotions,” Regis explained, gesturing Geralt to join them inside the room instead of being paranoid at the doorway.

Geralt begrudgingly walked into the room. “How did you even manage to get her here, _a witcher house even_ , voluntarily?”

“It is positively touching what great distances some walk for family,” Orianna said flatly without averting eye-contact from the table, continuing her arrangements as if her actions did not bother her the least. He grimaced, reading between the lines.  _Joseff._ “Now, I have some more pressing matters at hand.”

Geralt’s brows creased together in the middle, befuddled at Orianna’s uncharacteristic tone of gravity.

“What could possibly be more pressing than the _potential murderer_ of the Duchess?” Geralt snarked.

“This,” Orianna motioned towards the table.

Geralt strode over to the table until they were all gathered together in close proximity. Careful strokes of charcoal stretched across the crinkled, dark-yellow parchment, revealing familiar structures and roads. It was a map, but instead of merely markers of the common locations, crosses were drawn across the entire thing. A lot of them.

“A map of Toussaint?” Geralt inquired, towering slightly over the map and Orianna.

“My my, master witcher, consider me overwhelmed by your powers of deduction,” Orianna cocked her head to send a blasé glance, hovering a hand above one of the crosses before she tapped on it. “Each one of these crosses symbolizes a vampire, a dead one. Some of them have the exact dates of death due to my dutiful little birds and other sources of information. While others are pendling between two dates due to uncertainty. Nonetheless, one thing is certain.” 

She relocated her hand, placing it on the edge of the map, over the mountains.

“Vampires of different ranks have been pursued and slain across the entire land of Toussaint, beginning from the borders of the land to – “ Orianna paused, stroking her finger over the map from the upper edge to the bottom corner around a familiar location with thick walls and soaring towers. The nail scraped forebodingly on the parched paper. Everyone stared at the spot with merely one cross within a few centimeters radius.

“Beauclair,” Regis finished ominously.

Orianna's penetrating and strained eyes locked with them, an apprehensive tint behind those hazel irises. “I have been trying to contact some of the less intelligent vampires, such as Bruxas and Alps," She paused meaningfully. "None of them have replied.”

The temperature of the room seemed to drop, and everyone stared fixedly at the point of the map as they all reached the same conclusion, the wooden floors creaking at the pressure of them all. A chill traveled across Geralt's spine.

“Someone is purging Toussaint of vampires. All of them. Beauclair for last,” Geralt voiced everyone’s thoughts. He leaned over the table, breathing in and out slowly. 

How had he not noticed this? How could he have lived next door, unknowingly, to a damn massacre?

 _Because everyone thinks vampires are nothing but beasts. Unfeeling creatures. No one cares._  

Geralt shut his cat-slithered eyes.

“When did it even begin?” Geralt asked.

“Merely a few months after Dettlaff’s antics.” Orianna admitted solemnly, straightening her stance.

Regis tightened his hold on the satchel, flickering his gaze over the map with a taut expression.

“This not a mere coincidence then. No doubt that this is a twisted Vendetta to compensate for the lives consumed by Dettlaff’s juvenile tantrum,” Regis concluded behind him.

Geralt hummed in response, now staring at the tantalizing number of crosses over the parchment. Killing lesser vampires wasn't that uncommon. Difficult to kill, sure, especially for mere humans, but still possible. But a higher vampire? There was no chance.

“But how? A regular human, even a witcher, has a hard time killing vampires of the lesser ranks. Killing a higher vampire is impossible,” Geralt said, tapping an impatient finger on the dense wood.

“A higher vampire must be involved. There is no other explanation,” Regis acknowledged.

It still did not fit the puzzle.

“But what would a higher vampire possible gain from killing its own kin?” Geralt probed.

“Not to mention daring in the presence of a denizen. As much as a waft of this information and he would sever the head of the culprit without even considering the reasons behind it,” Orianna put in, folding her arms over her chest and strolling across the room to observe the setting outside the window, the olive-green dress draping after her.

Geralt sighed.

“Think we should contact this elder of yours after all? This is turning worse than I thought, more serious,” Geralt reasoned.

Regis wrinkled his nose and Orianna let out a humorless chuckle, idly rotating her head towards him. A cruel half-smirk spread across her face without her eyes to follow the gesture.

“There are simpler ways to commit suicide, not to mention ways to butcher some additional thousands of human lives in Beauclair, if not all of them. He will rend everyone across his path to shreds until he finds the culprit of violating the most sacred rule among our kin,” She said dryly, gesticulating a hand in the air to emphasize her statement.

Geralt rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Geralt snarked, crossing his arms himself to lean towards the table and face the others. “What will we do then? Can’t just wait around for another vampire family to get brutally murdered.”

“No,” Regis agreed. “But perhaps the final ill-fitted piece of the puzzle would illuminate the next course of action.”

There could only be one thing he meant by that.

“Syanna,” Geralt said.

Regis nodded approvingly. “Correct. She simply does not fit the pattern. Of course, it could be an act of retribution for fraternizing with vampires. Yet, it is a devilishly dangerous and bold move against the Duchess’ brusquely beloved sister. The beacon of Toussaint. What could possibly prompt the perpetrator for such rash risks?”

A voice harrumphed at the door-frame. Everyone turned their heads to see Evelyn studying idly her impeccable nails, meeting their gazes with half-lidded and arrogant eyes. “I believe there is a source in this _very room_ in fact that can provide you with that kind of information.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her. “You ready to talk now?”

Regis exhaled boisterously. “Geralt –“

“Now now, you wouldn’t want to offend me in case you manage to awaken my – how did you put it? Ah, yes. _My high emotional spirit,_ ” Evelyn interrupted with derision, pushing herself from the doorway to stand before them with one hand on her hip.

Before he even managed to send a reply, he felt the pressure of soft, gray fingers drape over his arm, insinuating to be the better person in the conversation, but it did not stop him from sending a glower at her. 

"What do you know then?” Geralt asked.

“My, with such a humble expression of regret then how can I refuse?” She chirped, placing a hand over her heart as a mock-gesture and expression soft with feigned affection. Evelyn snorted, quickly regaining her stern composure. “I don't really know the details, but I do know she searched every corner of the city for information after my parents – _demise._ Prostitutes, tavern folks, nobles. Anything for a mere trace,” She responded in all honesty, tone serious and distant. As if she had rehearsed the lines, concealing something deeper, darker inside. “I believe she found something, which she probably confronted without my knowledge. I assume the culprit thought Syanna knew too much. She had to be removed from the chessboard.“

“And you thought the Duchess was the one responsible for her own sister’s condition?” Geralt ventured scathingly.

Evelyn threw him an annoyed, pointed look. “I’m so sorry for deriving to the most logical conclusion when she was the mere human besides Syanna with the knowledge of my family’s true nature. The most influential member of Toussaint. Not just anyone could seize a higher vampire and get away with it.”

“And so you thought it was a brilliant idea to murder the Duchess of Toussaint without even finding out the truth about the hypothesis,” Geralt continued, ignoring the growing tension.

“Of course, sever the head and bring it on a silver platter in front of the population of Beauclair. Show my dominance.” Evelyn said flatly and snorted. “No, you dunce, I tried to interrogate her since she has been avoiding me ever since Syanna’s condition, _which was not suspicious at all_. But I do admit, I may have turned a little – too _zealous_ during our discourse.”

Geralt’s right eye twitched. “ _Little?_ Butchered a whole squad of guards.”

“ _Alas,_ vampires are not famous for their incredible self-control during periods of sheer fury,” She sneered, her stern gaze turning piercing, wild. “People, _vampires,_ are killed for less.”

He could not disagree with that. People were killed for money, petty disputes, and sometimes over a trivial, everyday object. But that was still no excuse to follow the same trend.

There was especially one thing that had nagged him from the very beginning.

“Didn’t think for a second that, _maybe,_ Syanna was behind it all? She doesn’t exactly have the most reliable reputation,” Geralt stated boldly, seeing Evelyn's eyes flash for a moment before she composed herself.

“Ah yes, and then she would conveniently send herself into a comatose state as the icing on the cake. All according to her decadent plans,” She commented dryly, eyes dipping shut. The sudden change of mood made her appear exhausted. Her posture wilted slightly, before she opened her eyes again, unwavering. “I had knowledge of her history, but people change. The world is not divided into black and white.”

“Yet, the sole fact that if you had succeeded your temper tantrum in the Palace, there would have been a successful coup d’état. You can not deny it seemingly appears as a shrewd plot to remove Anna Henrietta from the throne, in which none would have questioned Syanna’s role in the matter due to her vegetative state,” Regis interceded more politely, walking closer to Geralt.

Evelyn cocked one eyebrow, sighing. “If she had wanted to assassinate her sister, then there would have been easier and far less suspicious plans for it.”

Geralt exchanged glances with Regis, reckoning it was something worth considering.

Geralt locked eyes with Evelyn again. “So you don’t know anything more about the reason behind all of this?”

“No, Anna denied involvement and frankly, I have mostly been busy with the aftermath of losing almost an _entire family,_ ” Evelyn scorned with a new, rough tone, clearly trying to control her emotions even if her eyes were tinged with sadness.

Geralt was rendered speechless, almost tasting the resentment and sorrow in his mouth. Something tore inside of him, stinging his heart and rippling throughout his body, realizing how much the person before him had lost in a matter of weeks. Stern. Expressionless. A professional façade, he realized. Because she could not afford to show emotions. It wouldn’t change anything.

“If you _two_ are quite finished with your charming rehearsal for an upcoming theatre play, then it is only a matter of time until the next victim, in which I am included in the pool of potential subjects,“ Orianna’s unconcerned and self-centered voice resonated in the room to interrupt the gloomy atmosphere. 

Regis looked distastefully at Orianna at first, before he let out a resigned sigh.

“Orianna is right,” Regis admitted reluctantly. “Alas, we are none the wiser than before this discourse.”

“Not so sure about that,” Evelyn professed.

Geralt arched an eyebrow at the young creature, receiving eyes rolling at him.

“Look,” She strode confidently to the table, placing herself beside him and gesturing towards the map as she spoke. “The slaying is precise, wide and yet it has occurred only in the matter of a few weeks for many of the newest cases. Of course, a higher vampire could swiftly massacre dozens of lesser vampires, but to find _all those different kinds of vampires_ in a matter of months? When some masks their scent, leave no marks or veil themselves completely. That indicates knowledge. We are dealing with someone with money and a large, powerful social net to gain such knowledge of the vampires’ locations, possibly a noble.”

She lifted her eyes for a response, glistening enthusiastically at them. All of them just stared at her as if they had seen her for the first time, in an entirely new light. Orianna twitched a coy, approvingly smile at her, before they all came to the same conclusion.

“Time to visit the Duchess then,” Geralt grunted.


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Ugh_ , should have done this earlier,” Geralt complained. 

Regis quirked an eyebrow underneath his well-veiling, gray hood.

“Mm, yes. I’m certain the Duchess would have appreciated a visit from your unconscious, vegetated state, muttering incomprehensible, lengthy deductions and condolences about the sheer emotional toll the event must have taken on her delicate constitution from the depths of your unconsciousness,” Regis deadpanned, not showing any nervous tics to meet the Duchess. Then again. He was immortal. Gallows wouldn’t do much to the vampire. Inconvenient, but alive.

Geralt huffed, eyes still focusing on his feet in a palpable sign of guilt. “You know what I mean. Could have checked on her before Orianna arrived.”

Regis gave him an incredulous look, the raised eyebrows deciding to settle permanently into his forehead apparently.

“No matter others’ labels on you, Geralt. You are no more than a human. You have priorities, a mortal body with trivial necessities and not to mention that Evelyn posed a greater concern than the Duchess’ famous outbursts of emotions at the occasion, even if the latter is a rather alarming concern as well,” Regis pointed out.

“You are way too forgiving,” He reprimanded, trying to sound stern but failing to hide the fond tone in it.

Regis' eyes crinkled. “Ah, another common error in your vocabulary, I hear. I think the term you are searching for is rational.”

“Say that again when the Duchess has severed my head,” Geralt grumbled, fighting an amused twitch of the mouth.

Regis nodded feverishly, a mischievous smirk creeping across his face while he raised his index finger. “I shall, an entire lecture in fact, because to its astonishment, a sole head of a human can last for several seconds without – “

“ _Regis._ Not helping,” Geralt reprimanded, trying to look annoyed, but couldn't really fully hide the smile that tugged on his mouth, not really bothered.

Regis chuckled lowly, grinning at him that made his stomach swoop weirdly.

“ _Well,_ I tend to get ahead of myself with amiable company,” Grin wide, teeth sharp and white directed only towards him now, causing his heart to skip a beat. “But not to worry, I would never let your charming, little head remain anywhere else than on your shoulders. I would otherwise not to be able to conduct mutually satisfying discourses with you, and talking to you is something I very much like to do.”

Geralt's mind searched for a witty comeback, but he found nothing even after his long experience of banter with Yennefer. He just ended up staring at Regis with a dumbfounded expression, taking in the playfully glistening, black eyes that continued to grin at him. He knew it was all a joke. Just a mere attempt to lighten the mood. There was no reason for his useless muscle to a heart to pick up the pace too.

“Her Most Illustrious Grace has been awaiting your arrival. She is in the Ducal Parlor,” A gruff, booming voice interrupted their staring contest.

Geralt snapped from his reverie, noticing that they were already in front of the palace’s main gates and one of the guardsmen was motioning to follow him. At least it wasn’t the guard who was a, most likely, obsessive fan with a serious man-crush on him. Thank fuck.

The tall towers appeared less menacing in the late midday sun that brought about an orange tint to the pale façade, guards strolling around the grounds along with the more common folk and people fanning themselves in the heated sun. It was as if nothing had happened yesterday. Not even a trace of uproar or commotion, which was odd. He had expected more whispers, turmoil and gossip, knowing that the inhabitants of Toussaint desired drama, but at least he was relieved that the Duchess was waiting for them. It could only mean that Anna Henrietta had survived the ordeal and the whole feigned calm situation must have been her orders to not alert the masses. Although, the mere fact that she had been waiting for _him_ meant only one thing; trouble.

“Can’t be good,” Geralt mumbled, letting out a nervous breath as they began to follow the guard to the inside of the Palace. The main gates’ booming noise resounded loudly on its hinges as they were opened to create a passage to the foyer.

Regis looked at him from the corner of his eyes, before walking a bit closer to him.

The hallway was in the same condition as yesterday, Geralt noted, luxurious crystal chandeliers scattering the light across the jacquard wallpaper and elaborative portraits of the Ducal lineage hanging on the walls. The only difference was the amount of people, merely guards and court members were traveling between rooms instead of half of the population of Beauclair.

The Guardsman's armor clinked as he escorted them to the Ducal parlor. At the end of the room, Anna Henrietta was leaning slightly over a table, accompanied by one characteristic bald head that Geralt would never forget, Damien, and another male who he had seen at one important point, probably at Syanna’s trial, but he wasn’t entirely certain. Despite the previous night, she was wearing an eloquent, dark red-tinted dress that reminded him of the bloodbath from the guards.

His nose wrinkled at the thought.

“Geralt of Rivia, master witcher, and his companion at your service, Your Grace,” The traitorous guard announced them in the tense, silent room. His heart immediately began to pound more heavily in his chest.

Immediately the two men turned from the wooden table filled with papers and seemingly debris. Damien turned first in his distinctive red-brown, half-armor and the everlasting displeased expression to see him. _Great_. 

The other man had more light-worn clothes, clearly not a knight or soldier with those lithe and petite arms, wrapped in delicate and meticulous, blue fabric. Hands behind his back, and chin raised in a sign of superiority.

Anna Henrietta was the last to turn, only to regard him as if he was a fox she desperately wanted to send her beagles after. Her posture suggested that she was unruffled and apathetic, in contrast to the distressed bags underneath her eyes. Dark, almost purple circles which were accompanied by a pair of narrowed eyes that glowered in a spiteful way at him.

“Your Grace, I – “ Geralt began, but was quickly interrupted.

“ _Witcher,_ we are delighted for you to finally grace us with your appearance. I admit, we had expected a _sooner_ encounter judging by your presence at the ball,” Anna said accusingly, expression tight and tense.

Geralt bristled, momentary irritation suffusing within him, because being someone with inhuman features apparently meant that he had the powers to solve every damn, single problem. 

He opened his mouth to reply, but Regis beat him to it.

“With all due respect, Your Grace. Geralt and I tended to the matter of the perpetrator. Alas, as you have dutifully noted, we did not manage to capture the target as a higher vampire, as you may recall from your myriad of firsthand experiences, tend to move swifter than humans, but we reckoned the matter was more urgent at the moment,” Regis replied in strained politeness, but apparently only Geralt noticed the clear cutting sarcasm hiding within the words.

Damien huffed loudly. “More excuses merely to hide another clear failure from – “

“Enough,” Anna snapped, rendering Damian quiet, and regarded Regis with cold, calculating eyes. “Nonetheless, Damien has broached a certain essential point. This outcome appears to become a rather frequent scenario with you, _master witcher._ A bit too frequent for my liking,” She darted her harsh eyes to Geralt, morphing into something even sharper, dangerous.

Regis uncharacteristically tightened his eyes, straightening his back before he stepped forward to place his body between Geralt and the others in the room. 

A chill prickled across Geralt’s spine, wondering what the hell Regis was doing. There was something dangerously sparkling in his aura despite the blank expression, which the others also seemed to notice. Everyone hesitated to continue the conversation and Damien fiddled with the hilt of his sword.

There was a long, still second of mere stares before Regis' unsettling aura fell.

Geralt swallowed heavily, Regis was never the one to almost accidentally showing his other forms. And by the looks of it. He was on the edge of transforming. Something was wrong.

Geralt cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “We did what we – “

“Thought was appropriate in the spur of the moment as an instinctive-driven, mindless hound, so I heard.” Anna finished quickly, joining the new topic quickly. She kept her a bit too perceptive eyes on Regis, but eventually exhaled loudly, gesturing for the other men to rest their weapons. “I did not await your arrival to discuss matters of moral and virtues. But rather it has dawned upon my senses that there is an essential need to upgrade this investigation after the newest turns of events. People of _expertise_ to hasten the process” She continued scornfully as if they hadn’t been on the edge of fighting each other. “I trust you remember Damien. However, I doubt you have found the pleasure to meet Jean de Aloufeu, one of my most entrusted members of the court. Both specialized in vampiric matters after the disastrous tragedy with the Beast of Beauclair.”

Anna Henrietta gestured towards the lean, slim man to her right. The appointed man flickered his eyes discreetly back and forth between Geralt and Regis, plastering an insincere smile on his face and sauntering idly towards them as if he had all the time in the world. He reached out one of his hands when he was in front of the witcher.

Geralt almost considered if it would be less painful to jump out of the window than shaking that hand. _Probably._

“Witcher,” Jean drawled in that familiar, oh-so-posh tone Geralt hated, reluctantly taking the hand. Something unpleasant crawled across his skin as he locked with those bright, accessing blue eyes. “I have heard a great deal about you. Positively enthralled by your success in slaying the Beast of Beauclair. Especially since it is to my knowledge impossible to truly kill a higher vampire.”

Geralt froze, panicking inwardly. Damn. No one had tried to question how he had even managed to slay a higher vampire that could only be truly killed by another higher vampire, until now.

“Yeah, but there are certain – ways,” Geralt explained vaguely, trying to push down his anxiety. He wasn’t lying per se.

Jean hummed in acquiescence, narrowing his gaze. “Witcher ways I am sure. You witchers have been keen on holding onto your secrets.”

The tone might have been lighthearted, but all Geralt heard was an inner, hidden grudge against his brethren, which cautioned the witcher’s senses to be on his guard. Another disappointed customer of their services?

“Well, can’t have regular people stealing our jobs,” Geralt jested in the rather tense atmosphere, which only he appeared to detect. 

Anna swirled around to face them entirely. Her irritation and impatience sketched into every line of her posture.

“I’m delighted to see you gentlemen getting along, but to focus on the matter at hand, did you manage to establish anything new to the case by chasing the perpetrator rather than examining the condition in the Palace?” Anna interrupted dryly, keeping her hands elegantly together before her waist.

Geralt hesitated, not quite sure how to approach the subject.

“We did, which I had actually hoped to speak with Anna alone about it. Delicate matters and all,” Geralt began, hoping Anna would catch on.

Anna looked at him with hard eyes, squinting slightly and lips almost curling up in disdain.

“Kind of you to consider my delicate state, but that won’t be necessary. I entrust anything of concern to the matter with these gentlemen. I have discovered that secrets rather delay the process than hasten it,” She uttered in slow words, dry as the desert, hinting that she knew he was keeping things from her voluntarily. _The irony._

“I agree. So guess you think the _relationship_ between these reconciled facts isn’t something I should confirm with Your Grace yourself first?” Geralt drawled himself, making him as obvious as possible. 

Anna regarded him with a sharp, shrewd gaze for a very long moment, an inscrutable look on her face.

“It appears you have captured my attention, master witcher. I believe we need a moment of our own. I trust you fine gentlemen know your way out of the Palace?” She said courteously, more as a rhetorical question, gesturing towards the doors without giving them as much as a look. 

Damien whisked his head around, frowning. “Yes, but – “ 

“Excellent, now leave us,” Anna overrode him with her own authoritative voice.

Damien turned his entire body towards her, looking bewildered. “But Your Grace – “

She slowly turned her neck, squinting cold eyes at Damien. “I repeat, _leave._ ”

“I –“ Damien opened his mouth, merely to close it again when he met the fierce and uncomfortable gaze, sighing. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Damien and Jean shot disconcerted glances between them before they headed towards the large, gilded doors to the hallway, shutting the massive wooden handiwork with a loud noise that reverberated forebodingly in the room, especially since they were now all alone, the atmosphere tense and wild. Geralt almost regretted that he had wished to speak with Anna Henrietta in private. At least no one more than Regis would see his undignified death.

“You have my fully devoted attention, as you wished, _master witcher,_ ” Anna Henrietta said in a strained voice, insinuating that he should choose his words with great care.

Geralt swallowed. “We know, Your Grace, about the relationship.”

He expected her to snap at him, bellowing for the gallows next, but the emotions just drained from her face, leaving her looking nothing else than worn, tired, very tired. She said nothing for a long moment, just glowering at them with pointed eyes.

Then she swirled indolently around and walked towards the window, gazing out at the setting sun over the hills and mountains of Toussaint.

“Why the dramatics? The lies? Could have saved us some time if you had told us about this relationship of Syanna’s,” He probed, matching the tired voice. Because he was tired. Damn tired of the circumstantiality.

She whirled her head around quickly, annoyance now more clear in the unguarded environment.

“Geralt, do you comprehend the sheer dire situation when a member of the Ducal Family, one with the rumor of being inflicted by _the curse of the black sun_ , who _murdered_ four knights of Toussaint with the help of a beast, to initiate a _lascivious_ relationship with a commoner, even less a _vampire_ after the Beast of Beauclair incident?” She said as she approached Geralt with her hands raised, index fingers touching the thumbs to underline the severity of the situation. “The masses will rise if the word is spread among the inhabitants of Toussaint, they will storm the palace, and demand retribution in which I would be unable to refuse without my own head to justly follow the gates of the gallows.”

Before he could even think of a decent reply, blaming his lack of social skills at times, he merely spluttered out; “Might be many things, Your Grace. But not really a gossiper. Too much socializing.”

Regis' mouth twitched in the corner of his eyes and raised his hand to his mouth, looking as if he was considering something in this terribly fascinating conversation.

Anna Henrietta sighed and seemed to relax, eyes trailing off. “Geralt, I trust your intentions, but even the most honorable and virtuous man may slip this information in the right circumstances. I would not expect less. We are all human. As am I. Thus, I could not afford this information to reach more minds than it already had, in order to minimize the potential damage and downfall of Syanna. I had hoped Syanna's condition would have been solved without any need to unveil the relationship.”

Minds. _Plural._

“And has it, Your Grace, reached quite the amount of minds? Perhaps someone with enough grudge against the vampires to potentially inflict Syanna with this condition as a form of Vendetta?” Regis inquired, apparently snapping up the same thing. 

Anna gave him an odd look, as if not quite understanding it.

“Few, if any, do not bare contempt towards these _monsters_ after the last calamity,” She explained as if she was talking to children, a bitter twist to her mouth. “But no, in honest truth, there is no one in my knowledge that desires revenge to the extent that the person would punish the Ducal family for it. Unless these, higher vampires, associated with _her_ family have done it to end this tragic affair with a mere human.”

Geralt crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Doubt it. They usually don’t care if others in their family fraternize with humans or other creatures, as long they pick their own kin’s side in the end.”

“Usually is not a consistent term, witcher,” She pointed out civilly, trying to mask her derision.

“Then merely reckon it as highly unlikely, because higher vampires do not customarily meddle with human affairs. They do not see the point of it, nor find the care to be entirely candid. Many sharing the common view that it is frankly none of their business. No, in my humble opinion, there must have been another reason for conducting such a rash action if it is the case of a higher vampire behind it,” Regis explained further.

“Which would be?” Anna narrowed her eyes.

Geralt shared a glance with Regis, wondering how much they should divulge. Regis rose his eyebrows expectantly. Everything, obviously, if they didn’t want Anna to decapitate them on the spot, who stared knowingly at them.

Geralt sighed. “We – don’t really know. But we think we have found a lead. Apparently something has been killing all kinds of vampires for the past year in Toussaint. Beauclair for last where the higher vampires reside. We rather suspect someone in a high position, potentially a higher vampire or a human nobleman working with a higher vampire might be responsible for the killings and Syanna’s condition.”

She glared at them, mulling over something in her mind for a few moments.

“This conspiracy theory did not derive from a certain vampire, did it?” Anna drawled, glowering scathingly.

Geralt winced, it hit a little too close to home.

“I – We – “ Geralt stumbled intelligently.

“Enough,” Anna put a hand in the air to render Geralt silent once again. She almost appeared to want to pull out the hair from her head, or better, his head, but she quickly resumed to her previous state. Tired, worn and somewhat remorseful. “Despite our discrepancies in opinions and the recent events, I do not wish her harm. Not with her current associations with Syanna and if she is truly not responsible for the situation. I have contributed enough to my sister’s misery. Merely – “ She paused, roiling her next words with fewer emotions than before. “Keep her out of distance during this ordeal. That is a demand, not a question,” She finished, fixing him with a steely look.

His mouth almost opened dumbly to stare back at her, surprised, but not really with her ever so shifting emotions and her urge to protect whatever little family she had left. Even if they wanted to murder her.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Geralt said finally, not really knowing anything else to say.

Anna nodded once approvingly. “Splendid. Now, is there anything else I should know?”

That the gentleman in front of her was, in fact, a higher vampire? That he was currently living with an entire gang of sarcastic, constantly mocking and occasionally murderous higher vampires underneath her nose? That he needs to buy another house if this trend keeps going? _Nah._

“No, we are working on it. But difficult to distinguish the potential culprit. Would be helpful if you provided a list with people who knew about the relationship though,” Geralt said in the end.

“Indeed, especially when the entire line of Toussaint’s nobles are potential suspects, but I shall gather information, discuss the matter with the rest of this investigation and send a message after I have finished my own research,” She uttered as she strolled to the window again, observing the lively inhabitants in the city of Beauclair, back turned towards them. “Time is of the essence. I have a feeling it is even more at this point. And witcher –” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes churning with fierce, wild determination. “Keep them safe.”

* * *

Geralt walked on the stone-bricked bridge to the city of Beauclair, feeling his entire stance deflate while the darkness settled over Toussaint.

“That was rather – Awkward. But, at least we departed with our heads intact. Color me surprised of this new, maybe even positive, character development,” Regis commented, affecting sarcasm.

“Mhm, especially liked the part when you almost transformed,” Geralt said, each word dripping with even more sarcasm.

Regis grimaced at that, almost flinching.

“What can I say? Her kaleidoscope of emotions shifts at such pace that it even confounds my most primitive instincts, which says quite a lot,” Regis offered quickly without any further explanation.

Geralt opened his mouth, about to retort, when undulating shadows flickered in the corner of his eyes, somewhere from the town square further away. 

Geralt whisked his head around, scrutinizing the dim-lighted streets of Beauclair in the otherwise empty town square and alleys, listening vaguely to the distant shouts and laughter from the taverns that resounded between the buildings’ walls. 

His eyes were drawn to a strange group of black-clad men, faces out of sight underneath darkened hoods, who were strolling impatiently and swiftly between the alleys, apparently ushering each other to speed up. 

He frowned at the sight, caught up in the sensation that something wasn’t quite right. Especially not when an entire group of veiled creatures traveled together. 

Geralt narrowed his eyes at them. _Coincidence?_

Geralt turned to face Regis, who was merely focusing on the road towards Corvo Bianco.

“ _Regis,_ ” Geralt whispered lowly, gesturing towards the dark shapes.

Regis whirled his head around and followed his gaze towards the dark silhouettes that had begun to disappear around a corner.

 _Shit._ He was going to lose them.

There was no time.

He sprinted towards them with muffled steps, extracting his steel sword from the hilt on his back. The buildings curved dauntingly around him as he crossed the minor street, occasional fires from the windows flashing his face.

He pressed his back and fingers against the cool wall, concealing himself around the corner, before he tentatively leaned his head to peer at the new road.

“The perpetrators?” A voice suddenly whispered in his ear, making him jump in surprise. 

He hadn’t even heard Regis catching up to him, realizing that Regis was just as close to him as the wall pressing into his back. Heat encircled him, making his breath catch in his throat.

“Dunno. But not exactly the brightest idea to walk around in dark hoods if you want to pose as unsuspicious,” Geralt rasped in a thick voice. Regis threw him an offended look from his own grey-hued hood. Geralt smirked. “No offense of course.”

 _“Of course not,”_ Regis drawled, gaze flickering to something else on the street. “They have scampered towards a new street.” 

Regis suddenly morphed into a trail of black fog, leaving Geralt behind. 

Gripping more tightly around his sword, he sprinted after Regis and ran almost into him at the next corner, with Regis pursing his lips, looking mockingly disappointed by his slow pace. 

It really wasn’t the time to be juvenile. They didn’t have the time for it. They were grown men. Adults. Mature grown – Fuck it. 

He couldn’t help sending a feigned scowl at Regis. It had been a while, almost an entire year since he had decided to let his swords become just decorations in Corvo Bianco, but he still managed to slip into his instincts like a well-worn piece of clothing. He had forgotten how the blood pounded lively in his veins, the gut-twisting anticipation before a potential strike, and the mix of excitement and adrenaline kicking into his muscles to prepare him for survival. There was nothing compared to sneaking around in the dark, edgily waiting for something to make the first strike. He didn’t even know how much he had missed this, until now.

They darted around in silence through the murky alleys. The solid cobblestones muffled their steps as they hid behind the edges of houses, crouching low in the shadows and trailing the steps of the veiled faces that seemed to determinedly travel to the southern parts of Beauclair. _Fast._

Geralt frowned. _What the hell was the hurry?_

Most people didn’t feel the need to sprint through the city, nevertheless an entire group. At the late, dark evening. This was not a coincidence. They had an objective. In the higher streets of Beauclair.

They continued to trail the group, and then the figures suddenly halted in front of a large, pompous estate. One of them fiddled with the lock to the gateways’ hefty doors.

Geralt lifted his gaze from the veiled faces to the building, heart leaping unpleasantly when he recognized it.

Orianna’s estate.

It didn't take long until one of the figures had managed to unlock the door to the estate, peering inside to examine the environment. There were at least seven of them.

Of all the massive estates in the nobler parts of the city, they had chosen the one owned by a higher vampire. This couldn’t be a mere coincidence, or a case of burglary.

A moment of panic flared hot inside of him.

Orianna’s. Estate. Where she lived. Where she usually was _present._

Geralt pressed himself close to Regis, latching his entire side until their hair almost tangled together, ignoring his stomach flipping at it all.

“Did Orianna plan to return to her estate?” Geralt whispered frantically, being merely a few centimeters from Regis' face.

Regis stared speechlessly at the building for a moment, before he shook his head seriously and turned towards Geralt to stare at him, decreasing the distance between them.

“No. I believe she suspected it could possibly come to this conclusion, with her not too discrete nature in these lands. A wise decision it would seem,” Regis admitted, turning back to watch the figures infiltrate the grounds, one after the other.

Geralt looked at the menacing massive walls to Orianna’s home, with the last cloaked shape stepping inside. Several ravens circled distressingly over the estate, and some of them flew to the north, in the direction of Corvo Bianco. He took that as enough sign that Orianna was staying at his place.

But it didn’t change the opportunity. They had the opportunity to maybe discover the reasons behind the murders, get to know what the hell was going on, but that was also the thing. These might be the culprits who manage to _murder_ vampires, higher vampires, and Regis was one, following him. Who refused to leave him alone.

Hot, painful fear hit him, twisting his innards.

Because no matter what he did, it would still have a risk of killing Regis, lead to a more  _permanent death_. 

He knew he shouldn’t have brought Regis from Nilfgaard. At least he would have been safe there.

His heart slammed painfully in his chest, casting a sharp look at Regis.

“If any of them gets near you, you run, you hear me?” Geralt demanded lowly in hushed whispers, sneaking hastily towards the main gate of the estate.

Regis quickly matched his steps, eyes equally determined. “I think you mispronounced a certain pronoun, Geralt,  _we_ shall run if that happens.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Not a vampire, remember? Whatever they have won’t affect me.”

Regis countered with his own arched brows at that.

“You have no knowledge of that. They are likely well-prepared to withstand any creature, vampire or not, in their path,” He said with an equally stern tone, staring at Geralt without blinking. 

Geralt took a deep breath. He should be irritated, irritated on this damn vampire with no self-preservation, but that would be hypocritical of him, being accused of the same damn thing by Yen. Two birds of a feather. 

He found himself washed by a rush of affection for this man. This stubborn, incredibly sarcastic, odd with lengthy-almost-monologues discourses about tangible facts, selfless creature.

Regis suddenly twitched his nose and eyes towards the buildings, befuddled.

“What?” Geralt asked, equally perplexed.

Regis' nose wrinkled, wavering. “It is – peculiar. Even if I attempt to trace their scent, it is akin to the perfume and scents other higher vampires don to mask their original scent.”

“A group of higher vampires then?” Geralt thought aloud.

“Perhaps, not the most intellectual crowd if that is truly the case. Flying over the city as a _puff of fog_ would have been far less conspicuous,” Regis said dully, an amused little smirk playing around his mouth.

Geralt scowled half-heartedly. “Will you ever let that one go?”

Regis grinned viciously at him, mischief written all over his face. “Why ever would I? It would be a dear shame to forget anything from your mouth, I’d say, when it tends to reveal the most groundbreaking remarks ever-so-often.”

“Don’t know why I put up with you,” Geralt muttered, eyes crinkling in betrayal.

“My endless spectrum of personal charm?” Regis said in a chipper voice, eyes warm.

“Sure. Whatever makes you sleep well at night,” Geralt nodded, rotating his head around to hide his smile.

He held his breath as he stepped inside, feeling his fingers beginning to numb with the tight grip on the sword.

Everything was in pristine condition just like they had left it a few days ago. The massive statue of ladies rested in the pond along with water lilies, fountains to disturb the eerie silence and torches that swayed in the wrought iron scones to enlighten the red-white mixed walls. It was completely empty. He wouldn’t have suspected that anything was out of order if it wasn’t for the nagging sensation that something was deeply wrong and the cloaked figures that had disappeared into the estate.

Regis cast apprehensive glances towards the main chambers, apparently hearing something.

A sudden flash of a dark, outlined of a humanoid-shaped cloak dashed to the balcony from the rooms on the upper floor, halting abruptly when it spotted them in the concrete garden.

Geralt froze, shocked into a split-second of stillness, everyone staring at each other in one long second.

Then the figure snapped from its perfect impression of a statue and retreated back to the main quarters before Geralt had even managed to identify the face, noticing Regis trying to morph into fog again.

His heart leaped, clutching onto Regis' remaining clothes in a frantic attempt to try breaking the transformation.

“ _No_. Don’t let them know you are a higher vampire!” He hissed, sharp with distress, which was enough to stop it, and dragged Regis along towards the door to the private building instead.

Quickly, they dashed past the pillars that upheld the house, heartbeat loud in his ears. The door to Orianna’s personal chambers was locked as he rattled on the doorknob, making him slam into the door with his entire weight to burst through it. Inside, he spotted several figures in the same clothes escaping through a pair of other stairs at the other end, probably leading to a back door. 

Geralt narrowed his eyes.

_Why would they run from a witcher when they could murder higher vampires?_

Something wasn't right.

The stairs led to a heavy, steeled back door, almost impenetrable, but it was fully opened, staring at another street in the dark, cold corners of Beauclair. They hurried through it, met by complete silence and an intersection with no movements around it. 

“Do you smell them?” Geralt asked urgently.

“I – “ Regis said as bewildered, traveling his gaze all over the buildings. “No, I can not – Which should not be in the vaguest way possible. The mere speed that would imply. Not to mention –“ His gaze suddenly fixed on something on the ground. “ _Geralt_.”

Geralt followed the gaze, finding a recognizable large, round metal piece beside an identically large hole in the ground. _The sewers._

He lifted his eyes, looking at Regis' suddenly firm and intent posture, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“No,” Geralt blurted, knowing what Regis was thinking already. “It is too risky in a cramped space.”

Regis sighed, not waning from his idea.

“Geralt, it is conceivable that we will never encounter such an opportunity again. I could scout the area, possibly discover – “

“Not on your own. Won’t let you go into the arms of people who can actually kill you,” Geralt interrupted quickly.

“I appreciate the endearment, but it is less perilous in my incorporeal shell. There should be no problem,” Regis countered.

“You don’t know that. They might have something to counteract that too. And you have to admit that something isn’t right. To run from two potential humans when they can murder vampires? Run into a cramped space? It all screams trap,” Geralt pointed out. “Better talk to Orianna. Gather allies. Make some plans before heading straight into death itself.”

Regis narrowed his eyes at Geralt’s tense body, letting out an exhale before the scrutinizing gaze softened.

“Very well. Let’s hope her ravens gathered something of interest,” Regis said, picking up a strange, metal object in the streets when Geralt had turned his back. Loud distressed noises calling within the estate was the last thing they heard before they hurried towards Corvo Bianco.

* * *

“Naturally, I expected this scenario. I gathered recently that there were uninvited guests venturing around in my estate when I was attending – _a certain matter_ – mere moments before the event with the Zarachieve family. Thus, I was, alas, not home to prepare them a wholehearted welcoming,” Orianna replied in posh mockery, unruffled by the news, standing composed with a new, non-torn marine-blue dress. Her voice was the sheer depiction of cool indifference and infinite calmness.

“And the ravens conveyed no worthwhile new information?” Regis asked.

“No. They were, as you stated, obscured from prying eyes,” Orianna confirmed, casting a quick, for once serious, glance at Regis. 

Geralt sighed, mouth tightening at a certain thought that had been bothering him for a while now. Because it put someone else in this room in more danger as well. Which he didn’t like. At all.

“Still wondering how they know. Megascopes can’t find you. Divination magic does not work. And not like you are verbal about it. Maybe witchers? Others noticed the signs?” Geralt pondered, lifting his head.

Orianna cocked her head to the side, pausing.

“Neither do I, but frankly, I do not have the time, nor the care to solve this terrible fascinating mystery,” Orianna remarked dryly, looking more intently at him. “If this keeps up, then I will be forced to alert the other higher vampires in the city. Most of them are hardly as patient as myself, they will not be thrilled with this piece of information. It would lead to – “

“War,” Geralt finished, breathlessly and eyes widened in realization.

One of the corners of Orianna’s mouth lifted, sly and amused.

“That implies at least two sides, _master witcher_. The humans would not even gain the chance, nor time to immobilize themselves to create a side,” Orianna said, and there was almost something like pity in the tone, making Geralt wince. The mere implication of total extinction of all the humans in Toussaint sent a chilling shiver, not even wanting to think of the scenario. The amount of bodies that would litter the fields and streets until lesser vampires and necrophages feasted on their remains.

“Can’t have that, we must – “

“Not particularly fond of hollow, dead cities with only the windy breeze to accompany you? Shame. It is rather cathartic,” Orianna interrupted drily, suggesting she had been through this before. “No, obviously it can not come to pass. Neighboring countries to Toussaint would ponder, even consider myths that contain truths, if almost the entire population would vanish during a fortnight. Not exactly the preferred way to increase our reputation as vampires.”

Geralt crossed his arms, staring questioningly at Orianna.

“Then what do you propose that we do?” Geralt snarked.

“Catch them red-handed in action, of course,” Orianna said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, tsking when she caught Geralt’s doubting and grimacing face. “You underestimate the abilities of vampires. They might be able to murder higher vampires when we are in their territory, consisting of surprise and confined spaces. But outside of it, it is _our_ territory.” She declared, staring disturbingly at them with gleaming eyes, almost glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat in a writer's block as one may have noticed. So, do feel free to hit me with ideas of Regis and Geralt scenes that you want to see in the story (Might include some in the story if it fits somewhere between the major plot scenes ;) )!


	8. Chapter 8

“Really? This is your master plan? Pose as bait while we walk around the streets, patrolling?” Geralt questioned and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why, it almost sounds as if you don’t believe in the ‘Patrol Squad of Justice’, vampire edition?” Evelyn provided unhelpfully in a wry voice, her slim figure leaning haughtily against the wall, and placed a hand on her chest in mock-surprise.

Geralt threw her an unimpressed glance.

“Damnit. What ever gave me away?” Geralt responded, gesturing towards his entire ‘I’m-so-done’ face.

Orianna raised an imperious eyebrow at them. “Please, by all means, do not let me hinder you from indulging me of your _master plan_ if you have been harboring on one all along.”

Wrenching his head to stare beggingly at Regis, hoping he would have a more reasonable plan or throw something up from that satchel of his, but Regis just stared back at him as dubious and lost for ideas as himself.

Geralt heaved a sigh.

“I haven’t,” He admitted reluctantly. “But they could be anywhere in the city next time, only stumbled upon them by coincidence before. Besides, they murder higher vampires, which, if you hadn’t noticed, _you are_. It isn’t exactly safe for you or any of you to stroll around, provoking them to show up.”

Orianna's lips twisted coyly.

“Excellent deduction, master witcher, which is why I have a _plan,_ ” Orianna said flatly, waving idly towards the parchment with the houses in Beauclair outlined.

“And why, pray tell, am I exactly needed to listen to this terribly fascinating, _superb_ plan?” Evelyn asked, forcing an overly-enthusiastically and polite smile.

Orianna curled her upper lip in frustration, almost imperceptibly, before a more stoic composure replaced the expression.

“Oh? And here I thought you had a keen interest in finding the perpetrators who _murdered your kin_? My sincerest apologies for assuming otherwise,” Orianna provided dryly, earning a vicious, murderous glare from Evelyn.

Orianna exhaled heavily, her eyes softening with a faraway and rueful look as she glanced off to the side. “I must treat this seriously in the current circumstances. Which, to my aversion, means that I’d rather have additional support if I’m to make myself ostentatious in the streets to gain the attention of the perpetrators.”

Orianna leaned over the map on the table, tapping on the top and lower part of the city. Several rings had been marked on the old paper to indicate the dwellings of higher vampires.

“We need to divide into two groups. One for the northern part and one for the southern part of Beauclair in order to increase the chances of intervening the perpetrators before they find their next target. I shall take the southern part near my own estate to potentially draw them out, but I doubt they are foolish enough to try a third attempt after they’ve been caught. It is too risky, even for them,” She elaborated before she motioned her hand over the entire parchment. “Regis’ fowls and my own will reconnoiter the entire city, report to us frequently about the status, but also for us to send messages to each other if something should go wrong. Then the other group can quickly arrive to help.”

Orianna lifted her head to reveal her penetrating and intent hazel gaze, waiting for some response. But Geralt only glared at the old, worn parchment that couldn't offer any response in its inanimate state, still feeling as if it was too risky. Especially by splitting into smaller groups. Even if they did have an entire city to survey.

“Wouldn’t it be safer if we just patrolled together?” Geralt pointed out, looking at her now.

“Of course, but they are swifter than regular creatures. Almost as swift as - ” Orianna stopped abruptly. A thoughtful expression flickered past her pale, freckled face, making him tighten his eyes at her. “Well, lesser vampires frankly. We can not afford the risk of another death. The word would spread like wildfire.”

Geralt regarded her silently for a moment, feeling as if her pause had been significant, but Orianna offered nothing else.

He sighed in defeat. Because he knew there weren’t many other options. Not if they wanted to find them before they struck the next target. “Great. So when is our first stroll as ‘justice squad’?”

Orianna’s eager and unsettling eyes met his. “Why, tonight of course.”

* * *

Two days. Two almost entire days and he still hadn’t gotten as much as a message from Yen. Guilt had decided to coil and linger constantly inside of his gut, increasing by each hour she was still absent. Everything around the estate reminded him of her. Probably because she had left traces all over the estate, in her own subtle ways. All from the books placed as decorative objects around the estate, the roses growing on the pillars, the little quirky and odd objects he found at various locations, varying in size, which sparkled when he tried to touch them and caused the medallion to hum, to the constantly fresh flowers in the vases. Even the flowers had begun to wilt slightly at her absence.

“Is he going to do that a lot? Muttering incomprehensible sentences under his breath like we are not worthy of his impeccable language faculties and skive off to sulk in dark corners while we stare at it all as if it is just some great new theatrical show? Is this where I clap my hands at the on-point performance?” Evelyn mocked and gestured over Geralt's entire body, idling on the couch in one of the smaller rooms downstairs along with Joseff.

But Joseff didn’t even look up at the sarcastic comment, just kept staring at the book in his lap with a forlorn and wrecked expression, sclera brimming with red stripes.

“I do not sulk in dark corners!” Geralt retorted, sulkily.

Evelyn snorted. “You are right, my apologizes. You sulk _professionally_ in dark corners.”

Geralt opened his mouth, only to close it again, realizing that he had been skulking around in a sulky manner for the past few hours.

“Shut up, I do what I want,” Geralt grumbled under his breath again, not having any better comeback.

Evelyn gasped and clapped her hands in mock-awe, flickering her eyes between Geralt and her little brother, as if trying to gain Joseff's attention. “There he goes again!”

Joseff hit his sister’s arm weakly, while balancing a book on his legs.

“You could at least try to be polite for once _,_ ” Joseff reprimanded flatly and pointed an authoritative finger at her.

Evelyn pursed her lips in a fake expression of mock-hurt. “I am being nice! Praising him for his spectacular performance skills and all.”

“He is our host you know, the only one who has been nice to us since - ” Joseff trailed off abruptly, voice going distant and quivering slightly.

Evelyn’s face fell a little, regarding Joseff in silence for a moment. Melancholy fleeted past her face for a mere second, before she quickly perked back to her sarcastic self. Determined.

“And such an excellent host he is. The scowls whenever he catches a glimpse of my face warms the cockles of my cold, frilly heart every time,” She snorted at Geralt's and Joseff's similar glowers. “Fine, fine.” She said and waved a dismissive hand in surrender. “You are such a bore for a ten-year-old.”

“While your brain clearly stopped growing at five,” Joseff grumbled, but a small smile had begun to grow on his face. Clutching his book more tightly, he sent an apologetic glance towards Geralt as if it was somehow his fault that his sister’s brain didn’t work as intended.

Smothering Evelyn’s laughter, she ruffled Joseff's hair, earning a scowl and playful smacks from his hands.

“Where even are Regis and Orianna?” Geralt muttered and watched Evelyn trying to cheer up her brother, asking what he had come in here for in the first place before he was innocently harassed. Even if he really didn’t mind if that cheered up Joseff.

Evelyn shrugged, the long, dark hair dangling elegantly over her chest. “Not sure about Orianna, gathering information and things to prepare for tonight probably. Think the other uttered something about checking something in the dungeon. Not sure how to interpret that to be honest,” She flashed him an amused, leery grin.

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed in the middle.

“Yeah, because there are so many things one can do in the dungeon _,_ ” Geralt said sarcastically.

“I’m sure. So he is preparing for after tonight’s patrolling then?” Evelyn’s wicked grin widened even further, walking straight into her trap.

He frowned for a while, before the connection dawned upon him and intrusive images flashed past his eyes without his permission, feeling his cheeks heating.

“Wha – No!” Geralt blurted out defensively.

Evelyn squinted her eyes in a shrewd, leery way, cocking her head with that infuriatingly perceptive grin as if she was knowing something he didn’t.

“If you say so,” She tut’ed, almost in a sing-a-long.

Geralt sent his most impressive mature scowl at her before he took some wine, a tankard and himself outside with less sarcastic vampires who messed with his mind, definitively not to continue his sulking.

* * *

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting on the divan. Quite a long time judging by the descending sun in the sky and the more energetic insects that continued to try their luck on his skin, but he couldn’t find himself to care. Whether that was because of the amount of liquor he had ingested or the way he had been trying to suppress his emotions the entire evening, he didn’t know. His chest hurt a bit at the reminder of why he was sitting here in the first place, taking another drink from the tankard and enjoying the burning sensation to distract him from everything else. The alcohol sure made his world feel more pleasantly fuzzy.

“So, care to indulge me what has been bothering your mind for quite some time according to Evelyn or must I concoct additional hooch to loosen your tongue?” A familiar voice emerged out from nowhere, making him flinch in surprise, but the tone contradicted to the words filled with sarcasm, merely consisting of firm determination.

Geralt looked up only to see Regis standing on the other side of the divan and holding his satchel, the hair as ruffled as ever in the breeze, looking concernedly at him.

“I’m ‘ine,” Geralt mumbled in a slur, hoping that would end Regis’ curiosity, like it did with most of his friends.

“Mm, yes, clearly,” Regis deadpanned, slumping down on the divan beside Geralt and balancing his elbows on his knees to show how much he believed in Geralt’s statement.

Geralt huffed, averting his eyes while Regis’ herbal scent surrounded him like a warm cloak.

“I’m just being ridiculous,” He offered further when Regis didn’t press on, looking at the refined red wine in his tankard. Only damn liquor around these parts.

Regis nodded vigorously. “Most likely. Nevertheless, that does not make it any less important.”

Geralt’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, facial attributes softening. Only Regis could sophisticatedly insult him and make him feel important at the same time. And for once Regis didn’t press the matter further, not uttering anything, which was unusual with his constant sarcastic remarks and scholarly lectures to educate the less fortunate human of his knowledge deprivation. He did not even make eye-contact with Geralt as if he somehow knew that Geralt needed space to gather his thoughts if he was going to be able to spit it all out. Both stared at nothing in particular, some merchants and travelers traversing across the vegetation in the distance.

Geralt took a long drink from his tankard, trying to swallow the big lump in his throat.

“Haven’t heard from Yen,” Geralt finally admitted after a long pause, each word a struggle to push out.

“And you do not have a notion of her location?” Regis asked gently.

Geralt’s mouth thinned, looking sullenly at his beverage. “No.”

“That sounds rather – well, immature for an adult human to be entirely candid, especially one around a century,” Regis commented briefly after a while, adding space for Geralt to continue the conversation if he really wanted to.

He didn't have any response, because there was no way he could judge Yen. Not after he had run away from her in the past when she had wanted to settle down, because he didn’t think that life was for him at the time. He had been more afraid of commitment than huge and lethal monsters back then, leaving nothing but a note and some flowers. Like a real douchebag. Especially with Yennefer’s background. He had left her, triggering all those traumatic memories in her. And here they were, several years later, settled down. He had hoped the arguments would have settled down with it, decrease at least, but the same topics and dramas were still lingering around them like a thick mist he couldn’t disperse. The little quirks and traits in Geralt that Yen never managed to really accept, because they always reminded her of her past. Even if she constantly said he shouldn’t change, then he knew there were certain core things she didn’t quite like about him. He always failed her, never meeting her expectations. In one way or another.

Geralt slumped in his seat for a few moments, feeling exhausted and realizing that Regis was still sitting beside him, staying silent.

He sighed.

“It’s always like this. Shouldn’t be bothered by it by now. It’s always fight after fight. Lots of arguments. Drama. One of us takes some time out to calm down. Take some pauses from it all,” Geralt explained, trying to look unperturbed. “But we always get back to each other. For one or another reason.”

He didn’t even know if he said the last part to convince himself or Regis.

“Yet, you are obviously bothered by it,” Regis pointed out.

His heart twisted unpleasantly in his chest, gripping the tankard more tightly. Staring frantically at the windmills in the distance, he tried to push down the uprising emotions within him. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, because it felt as if Regis had uncorked the cap to an overfull bottle within him. He had always dodged these sorts of conversations for a reason. For Yen’s sake. For his sanity. Never really put words on what he felt.

He took another swig of his liquor, feeling as if it was too late to back out now.

“Sometimes wondering if we are just clinging to each other because we don’t know what else to cling to,” Geralt began in a low and rough voice, trying to mull over the choice of words and articulate his thoughts to make Regis understand. The liquor made the words flow out a bit easier though. “Everyone else around us has built their own lives. People come and go. Things begin, and things end. No one ever quite stays. That’s the life of always being on the path. Didn’t really bother me before, because I always had Yen and I thought we would settle somewhere once I got tired of all this ‘on-the-path’ shit. Since our lives were always tangled together, in one way or another. Always sacrificed everything for each other, being there when it mattered the most. Hell, even got Ciri as our somewhat-adopted kid. And if that comes to an end – “ He stopped in mid-sentence, his tongue suddenly feeling very thick and heavy.

“Then you would be alone again. Feel as if it was all for nothing. Back at the beginning. Not quite sure about your place in this world anymore,” Regis finished for him, translating the silence. Understanding.

He swallowed.

“Yeah,” Geralt rasped out, taking a swig of his wine as the emotions had begun to close his throat again. “Had Vesemir before if things wouldn’t turn out well. But now when I don’t have that – ” _Then he didn’t have many choices besides staying on the path_ , was left unsaid. Take on witcher contracts to survive another month. Perhaps stay at Kaer Morhen during the winters. Someone had to take care of that old place anyhow now when Vesemir was gone. Visit old friends, if they weren’t already dead, visit Ciri, whenever he was in the neighborhood, catch up over some tankards in a pub until they had to return to their corresponding families or partners. Geralt wouldn’t question it. He would understand. Even if he had no real experience with the regular family life. Or regular life in general. He would sit in the pub with strangers and drink until nothing mattered. Then the sun would rise in the horizon for another day.

Alone.

Fumble with some women in brothels time to time to merely wake up with another warm presence near him when it all became a bit too much.

He narrowed his eyes on the tankard before him, eyes stinging a bit. The morbid thoughts were running ahead of reality, but it still didn’t stop the strings around his heart from tugging painfully. It was all irrational, because he didn’t even want anyone to tag along as a companion on his quests. He couldn’t deal with another death that he was responsible for in one way or another. His quests were his alone to complete. He should deal with the consequences, not others. Regis was a fine example of that.

And Yen hadn’t left him for good. All these rising deeply seethed grudges, guilt and fears were pointless when nothing had happened. If he didn’t know better, then it was the liquor that had begun to make him emotional. “But as I said. Always like this, so shouldn’t think the worst already.”

Regis hummed, shifting thoughtfully beside him, the ancient coat rustling in the calm breeze.

“It is a shot in the dark, but I can not stop thinking if this scenario, among countless others, are escalating doubts within yourself, which may be the source of your worries? Pondering if this is how it truly should be? Sensing your emotions do not exactly lie where you want them to be, but petrified of the consequences of doing something differently?” Regis reasoned, cocking his head to side-glance at Geralt. “Sometimes, a bit too often, we settle with what we _think_ is right instead of what _is_ right.”

It hit him straight in his guts, making it hard to breathe, feeling as if he had been playing on an instrument that didn't quite right, not anymore, for quite a long time.

“Maybe, but do love her though,” He defended, because he honestly did. He just didn't know what sort of love it was these days. They only seemed to enhance the worst of each other these days. He also didn’t know what was right anymore. It had always been the hardest part to figure out in his life, distinguishing the difference between what seemed right and what was right.

Regis’ eyes softened.

“Aah, but I do not doubt that you harbor feelings towards Yennefer. Sometimes, it is not a question of love, nor like, but rather a question of compatibility. Love, for humans, is irrational, blind even, and yet one of the most powerful mechanisms for change. However, it never quite alters the most basic fundamental cores of your personality, with other words, compatibility is not always guaranteed. You do not need to be compatible to appreciate something before you,” Regis said gently, smiling at him.

It demolished the last of Geralt's barrier, emotions lashing and threatening to swallow him whole, validating his doubts. It was all too much. Even if it wasn’t anything new, but he had been guarding his emotions in front of his heavy, bolted doors for a goddamn long time.

He had to stop it.

“Make it sound like it isn’t the same for you vampires,” Geralt blurted out in a desperate attempt to change the topic. Anything to push his doors closed again. Where it was safe. Where people couldn’t see them. Where he wasn’t vulnerable.

What he wasn’t prepared for was how Regis merely stared at him in silence for a moment, and seemed to follow the topic change without mentioning it. Geralt couldn't feel anything else besides an extreme, almost painful wave of gratefulness towards Regis, letting him take things in his own time.

“Because it is not. Our species is not exactly in need of quick procreation. Thus, we have evolved to fall for almost completely, compatible potential mates, for better and worse. Granted, it is more difficult to find potential mates as it can take centuries before we find one, but instead the love and relationship is stable, passionate. Great time and distance need to pass before it wavers. Of course, there may still be incidents and certain aspects that – complicates things,” Regis said, voice slightly strained at the last part.

Geralt raised his head to look at the strange and forlorn expression that fleeted past Regis’ visage. A certain old memory popped into his mind.

“Sounds like from experience. Your past vampire lover?” Geralt asked a little coyly, because he had never told Regis about this.

Regis whisked his head around, bewildered. “How do you – “

“Stumble upon a lot of things. _Lots of things,_ ” Geralt interjected, definitely smirking coyly now.

Regis sent an unimpressed, yet amused raised eyebrow. “Oh? Do I even wish to know?”

“Yeah, learned a few kinks of yours – “ Suddenly his tankard was knocked away from his hands by an invisible force, spilling its content onto the ground. He looked back up incredulously, meeting a shit-eating grin staring back at him. “Hey!”

Regis suddenly threw him a feigned innocent and concerned expression.

“Oh dear, I fear you are experiencing spontaneous, involuntary body spasms due to intoxication from vast ingestion of alcohol. Incredibly rare. Only happens once a decennium I hear, I daresay you should feel grateful for being subjected to such rare – _Geralt!_ “ Regis gasped in alarm when Geralt’s hands fumbled around Regis' pockets, dragging out a small bottle, no doubt hooch.

Geralt’s face beamed triumphantly at the find.

“Damn. So sorry, my _incredibly rare spontaneous involuntary body spasms_ happened again, can’t control myself apparently,” Geralt said, stifling a laugh at Regis’ face that had frozen in a mix of horror and amusement, and something else more unreadable, before he opened the cap and drank from the bottle.

“You are utterly ridiculous, aren’t you?” Regis said, leaning forward towards him. No spite was found anywhere in the tone, just genuine warmth and fascination.

Geralt snorted. The little hypocrite.

“Don’t know what you are talking about. Involuntary spasms, remember?” Geralt said, contriving to look innocent, even if his wide grin said otherwise.

Regis smiled beamingly back at Geralt before he looked away, looking more thoughtful all of the sudden.

Geralt passed the flask back to Regis automatically, feeling as whatever Regis was thinking about needed a nerve-strengthening boost. Only to earn a raised eyebrow and a too warm hand enclosing his own for a mere second to take the flask for a sip.

“Sometimes love is about letting a person go. Give them, _yourself especially_ , at least a chance to discover happiness in another place. Whether that is the case in this scenario or not, I can not possibly tell,” Regis said after a while of companionable silence, scraping a nail on the flask in contemplation. “But by pacing yourself in an endless deleterious circle, it keeps you from encountering new paths that could potentially lead to authentic happiness behind those mountains in the far, far distance.” He paused meaningfully. “There are billions of creatures out there, Geralt. We are never truly alone. I’m certain at least one of them would find your company more than tolerable. If not quite a lot of them, if you merely raise your gaze to discover them.” He finished with an odd, memorizing gleam in his irises, rotating his head to stare straight into Geralt’s eyes.

Geralt’s heart constricted painfully inside his chest, quickly taking the flask to focus on something else than the intense, probing eyes.

“Think I found a better title suggestion for Dandelion's next ballad, ‘Regis the Sap’,” Geralt derided in haste.

Regis exhaled a huff of laughter, skin crinkling around the eyes.

“ _There they are_ , I had begun to worry where those intellectual and ground-breaking remarks had disappeared to, usually appearing whenever the emotions lurk a little too close to home,” Regis said wryly and paused for a moment. “I do not insinuate to find a new potential partner whenever one tires of the old or for minor disputes. All relationships have their own trials and they all demand effort from both parts, but it is questionable when the majority of the experiences are adverse or when certain essential arguments repeat in a never-ending bad circle. Then you have to question yourself if this is truly how you want to spend your life. If the differences are perhaps too wide,” He continued. “Human lives are short, nothing but a mere blink of an eye. Thus, it is wise to reflect on what is worth fighting for or not to save time.”

Companionable silence enclosed around them with Geralt not knowing how to respond. Mostly because he didn’t even have an answer for himself, never quite allowing himself to think about it. He had always been thinking it would have been him and Yennefer no matter what. Now he wasn’t as sure, but it was somehow easier to think about it with Regis sitting beside him, being there for him. As he always was when he could.

“You know, never quite thanked you for everything. You never needed to actually help me, so you know – “ Geralt commented gruffly, never really been good at this sentimental and emotional stuff. “Thank you, for everything. Being here.”

There was a beat of silence, and then; “Well, it is not as if I had anything better to do,” Regis said casually, as if he would dump the human as fast another more exciting adventure with another grumpy protagonist turned up.

Geralt whisked his offended head around, facing an amused face merely a few inches from his own face, offering a crooked smile.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, sending a half-hearted scowl as he ignored the tug in his heart.

“Think I’ve figured you out really. You’re really an asshole, but hides it behind mouthy and complicated words so no one will figure it out,” Geralt said as if Regis was his newest case to solve.

Regis chuckled lowly, grinning wickedly with his fangs bared. “My my, what shall I ever do now when my true character has finally been exposed by none other than the exceedingly witty – not to mention debonair – White Wolf famed through song and tales?” He said with feigned a dramatic expression of surprise at being caught, quickly morphing into something more kind and warm. “But of course Geralt. There is no other place I’d rather be - helping a dear friend of mine.”

Geralt smiled, sinking into the warm feeling that surrounded them.

He felt more at ease, tranquil, less exhausted.

And this time, when Regis' arm leaned against him, Geralt leaned back, just slightly though. Passing the flask between them a little longer, they watched the sun sinking below the horizon. Together.

* * *

It had begun to rain when they decided to head out from Corvo Bianco, hammering on their clothes and the streets of Beauclair. The torches extinguished by the abrupt change of weather, but the rain had quickly dissipated as it ever did in these heated and dry lands, leaving a thin mist above the buildings.

They had split in the middle of the city, Orianna and Evelyn morphing into their more intangible forms to head towards the rooftops along with the ravens. A residue of blue and red fog trailed after them.

Regis and Geralt moved into the obscure, cold shadows dancing underneath the moonlight, the tall structures towering ominously into the dead of the night. Everything silent and tranquil beside the ravens that rustled on every rooftop, not even a sound of the other inhabitants in this murky atmosphere, the wind whistling through the occasional cracks and chinks of the windows on the buildings.

They proceeded in rushed and muffled steps across the streets, keeping their eyes on marked spots in Beauclair where higher vampires lived.

Not as much of a flicker of life even after several rounds around the streets.

Geralt fiddled with his bombs, patience wavering, mainly because it had felt like hours with the constant tension and the anticipation. Even the ravens appeared to become as restless as him, croaking at each other and constantly moving around.

“Are the ravens saying something?” Geralt whispered.

Regis shook his head. “Nothing in particular about furtive silhouettes.”

“Then – “

Geralt stopped, being interrupted by a flutter of a black shade flickering in and out from his peripheral vision. Quick enough to make him question if it had been real or not, but Regis seemed to have caught it as well.

Geralt rotated his head to make eye-contact with Regis who already looked at him, nodding. Geralt wrapped his fingers around the cold handle to his sword before they set off. The ravens croaked and fluttered in the air above them while they passed the corner, to merely see another flutter of undeniable a figure that tried to outrun them in the dimly lit streets, the cloak billowing and disappearing around another corner.

They sprinted forward with quick and almost soundless steps, turning at the intersection in the same direction as the cloaked figure.

Geralt gritted his teeth as they continued to meander around the streets without catching the figure. He knew he should send Regis after it, but he was still reluctant to send Regis anywhere alone.

Although, the figure seemed to slow down, as the distance decreased between them. Turning at the other corner –

Only to meet a large group of figures, appearing human in their builds, waiting expectantly, all covered in dark cloaks and fabric to veil most of their faces and bodies. Weapons, coated with a green substance, rested idly on the shoulders and the ground, but they rose their gazes as they caught sight of Geralt, eyes glimmering in excitement when they all fixed their gazes upon his white hair.

Geralt and Regis abruptly halted at the sight, his heart leaping unpleasantly.

_A trap._

Someone clapped slowly within the group.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the famous master witcher, Butcher of Blaviken, the Slayer of the Beast, _White Wolf_. What a lovely surprise to find you _here,_ ” A tall, burly shape discerned by stepping out from the group.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at him. The hood had been completely dragged down haughtily, as if they wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter, revealing stylized auburn hair and delicate, pale features to fabricate a rather handsome man. It wasn’t anyone he recognized, but the accent clearly originated from Toussaint.

“Who the fuck are you?” Geralt said and steeled himself, raising his sword towards the group.

The man’s eyes crinkled around the edges.

“Why, where are my manners!” The man chuckled darkly, throwing out his arms as a warm welcome gesture at them. “It really depends on the person though _,_ all from a dull, ordinary merchant to _‘p-please, think of my children’_ if you catch my drift, but to you handsome? I am your new, oh well, what shall we say, _keeper_?” The man bowed mockingly before them, lifting his head to stare manically into his cat-slitted eyes. Geralt’s stomach lurched in disgust at those hungry, green eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. Our boss merely thinks you have been meddling with our affairs a bit too much recently. So, it would be quite convenient if you just – _disappeared_ – just for a little while. Not to worry, I’ll make sure to make your time _worthwhile_.”

Geralt’s repressed an unpleasant shiver at the coy and leery voice, forcing himself to stare unwaveringly at those mad, extremely focused eyes. Even Regis had curled up his upper lip a fraction, emitting angry and boisterous exhales through gritted teeth. Eyes wide and wild.

“Tempting offer. Think I’ll pass this time though, don’t usually do kinky stuff on the first date, but wouldn’t mind if you shared some details about this ‘job’ of yours,” Geralt retorted in heavy sarcasm, posing unperturbed.

The man grinned nastily.

“For you to kiss and tell?” He tsk’ed and wagged his index finger in the air. “You disappoint me witcher, I had quite looked forward to facing the legendarily witty and unbeaten Geralt of Rivia, _pose a bit of a challenge_ to live up to all those tales and songs the ladies and men all swoon for, undeniably myself included, because imagination does not quite do it anymore for me. But you’ve no idea what you have gotten yourself into, do you?” His voice darkened, seemed more intent now. “Oh well, I guess you will find out soon enough,” He said dismissively, gesturing towards them. “Capture him, but kill the spare. He is of no use to us.”

The rest of the group moved towards them at the command, rushing towards Geralt with their swords raised in the air to strike.

 _Good._ That meant they didn’t know that Regis was a vampire. Something he planned to keep.

Geralt shifted closer to Regis until his back almost touched Regis' side, igniting a blue glow his hand in preparation to use the Aard sign.

Then there was a sudden noise in the air, but before he could even locate where it was coming from, a sharp object was in front of his chest, coated with a dark, green substance.

His breath hitched in surprise. It was too late, but he moved his hands in a desperate attempt to draw the Quen –

Regis hit the object at an inhuman speed with his elongated claws, redirecting its course to the ground, revealing an arrow, coated with something that he guessed was some sort of poison.

Geralt flickered his eyes around and discovered a few archers on the rooftop of the nearby building, stretching their bowstrings for another shot.

Face contorted with rage and his more bestial features, not even trying to hide his nature anymore, Regis snarled at them which echoed ominously among the streets. The figures halted for a second, but quickly regrouped to surround both of them without a care that one of them was a higher vampire.

Regis inhaled one long breath before he emitted a low-tone, sonic screech at them, glowing a green sort of hue and vibrating in the air in such a force that objects along the path quavered. The figures on the roof appeared to lose the balance on the tiles, subsequent screams and nasty-sounding cracks following right after it.

Resident air currents rang slightly in his ears, but the others seemed almost unaffected by whatever Regis had tried to do. And by the look of Regis’ shocked expression and wide eyes even in his half-beast form, it had definitely not worked as he had thought.

Geralt cursed.

The leader stopped idling around at his spot and looked at Regis as if he had gotten an early birthday present.

“Oh-ho, what do we have _here?_ ” He said cheerfully without a care that some of the lackeys had just died, eyes glistening in an unsettling way. “A higher vampire? My, I admit, we did have our guesses, but for the _Slayer of the Beast_ to have a higher vampire as a companion?” The man dragged his eager, calculating gaze to Geralt, eyes staring intensely at him now. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you? But I admit, I do love a man who keeps me on my toes _._ It is a little more – _chase_.”

Geralt didn’t even get a chance to respond before Regis had drawn himself together, hissing and sharpening the claws, only to disappear in front of his eyes.

“ ** _Now!_** ” The leader’s voice boomed in the same instant, face contorted into a perturbing, malevolent expression.

Several of the figures hurled bombs towards the ground and near where Regis had been, exploding on impact with the stone bricks. A thick cloud of smoke erupted from the bombs, restricting Geralt’s vision before his pupils accumulated to see through the mist.

He was surrounded.

And a reverberating, inhuman snarl of rage emanated nearby.

Whisking his head around, he could distinguish a familiar, humanoid visible shape, _Regis_ , clutching his head and occasionally lashing in the air with one on his hands even if there was nothing around him.

The leader grinned maniacally.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” Geralt shouted in rage and sprinted towards Regis, sending several approaching figures into the air with Aard.

“Oh, nothing in particular. Let’s just say he will have a hard time separating up from down anytime soon. Quite handy when hunting higher vampires, _don’t you think?_ ” He answered gleefully, casting up and down another of the bombs in his right hand, ready for another strike.

Geralt snarled at him, sending one of his bombs towards him, but he easily dodged it and the northern wind’s ice meandered across the stone. A storm of white trailed ravenously after the cloaks, but failed to grab them.

One of the figures stormed towards Regis, something sharp glistening underneath the arms of the coat.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at it and swung his body around to interrupt the attack, swords ringing together as they clashed. Almost abreast with the figure, it projected his left arm towards Geralt, but Geralt shoved his left hand in response towards the figure's heavy-plated chest and triggered the Aard sign, sending the figure hurling into the air.

He whirled around in a half-pirouette to parry another blow and sent sparks of Igni at the figure, breaking the parry and increasing the distance between them. Whirling his steel sword around as the figures attacked from several different angles, he gritted his teeth at the never-ending numbers of cloaked silhouettes. The figures would manage to reach Regis if he didn’t think about something fast.

 _Where the fuck were Orianna and Evelyn?_ The ravens should have notified them by now, and _heard them_.

The cloaked figures were fast, devilishly fast, quicker than was humanly possible, almost as if they had been injected mutations or enhancements. One second in front of him and the other second behind his back. It almost reminded him of Ciri’s teleportation strategy, only that he could follow the motion of these figures, vaguely. _What the hell were they?_ He couldn’t even hurl bombs at them. They wouldn’t even hit the target.

He tried to look at Regis from his peripheral vision, fearing to find a motionless body lying on the ground with all these figures striking left and right. Instead, to his astonishment, he found Regis, not clutching his head anymore, twirling around in the same ferocity and hurling people away from himself and Geralt. Hoarse, shrill snarls emitted from Regis' throat.

The leader’s eyes were impossibly wide.

“What. How is that even possible – It shouldn’t even – “ The man babbled in a stutter, appearing completely thrown off from his game. An agitated look flashed across his visage before it turned into raw, sheer fury.

“Capture them! **_Capture them now!”_** The burly man snarled at his lackeys.

Distracted by Regis, Geralt wasn’t ready when one of the figures swept a sword at him, but he still managed to lean back enough for merely the tip of the sword to scrape against his arm instead of cutting deep into the flesh. It still stung as hell though, skin going numb around the cut.

_What the hell?_

He didn’t get the time to inspect the wound before another sword lunged at him, clashing against his own steel sword.

Regis instantly whisked his head around at the smell of Geralt’s blood, eyes widening and altering into a murderous crimson tone. It was all the warning they got before Regis shrieked in a shrill voice, almost threatening to shatter his eardrums, which stopped everyone’s movements in order to cover their ears.

Time seemed to slow down almost to a standstill when Geralt saw Regis’ body beginning to distort into shapes that he hadn’t seen for a long time, dread twisting in his guts.

Bones cracked ominously in the still air, face elongating and twisting into a snout, flesh and clothes ripping apart as the bones pressed against the skin’s surface. Arms stretched along with some red, thin membrane protruding at the bottom of the extremities. Foreboding and dark snarls echoed in the streets. For several seconds, all of them merely stared, paralyzed by the horror tingling in their nerves and muscles, as the body in front of them only continued to grow rapidly into almost to the size of a smaller house. The transformation didn’t end until the shape turned into a more refined and distinct, monstrous bat-like creature, towering over them with the lips curled back to reveal the row of massive, sharp teeth. Dark-shaded wings with red membranes extended until they covered most of their vision-field, merging with the sky and obscuring their natural source of light while the new riveting, glowing red eyes replaced the stars. The cloaked figures along with their leader gasped and staggered back, even Geralt took an instinctive step back at the enormous shape in front of him. This form was even bigger than the one he had seen in the fight with Vilgefortz.

It was Regis' bestial form.

The monstrous bat settled down the gigantic wings to the ground with a loud thud which reverberated across the entire ground, clawing the sharp thumb into the stone-bricks which left massive grooves as if it had been mere _flesh._  Red eyes with a thin, black stripe in the middle calculated and trailed their every movement.

Regis took a thunderous step towards them by lifting and settling one of the wings to the ground with the hind-legs following the motion. The wide jaws opened the piercing fangs and roared a dark, shrill cry that trembled in the air, pushing them all back.

Whirls of red were completely transfixed on them, no trace of humanity left in him. The only feature left to recognize Regis was the slightly long, dark-grey hair around the neck and head as some form of mane, in contrast to the short, grey-black fur on the rest of the body.

“Take it down!” The familiar voice of the leader commanded breathlessly, voice quivering with terror before he repeated in a steadier yell; “ _Take. It. Down. Now!_ ”

Geralt spun his entire body and saw advancing dark shapes advancing quickly towards them, but most of them dashed past him and lunged at Regis instead.

_Shit._

He tried to pounce on some of the figures and lunged his steel sword at them, his energy too drained to use his signs.

Regis hissed, nostrils flaring in warning before he swept the entire ground with one of his gigantic wings in one powerful strike. A few managed to evade it, but most of them sailed several feet through the air into the walls of the nearby buildings. Catching one of the figures in Regis' cavernous maw, he champed down in one sickening crunch, instantaneously ceasing the movement of the figure and blood pouring from the mouth.

Regis growled in a deep-rumbling tone at the shapes around him and flung the body at them, hissing and baring fangs before he began to whirl and swipe mercilessly with the wings, snapping the jaws in an attempt to fetch another figure and flinging them around like ragdolls.

Managing to land a heavy and swift thumb on one of the figures, Regis threw the screaming body into the air, and caught it again with his mouth, biting the body into three pieces with his mere teeth.

The lifeless head stared back at Geralt when it landed on the street with a squelch.

_‘Blood addiction’ is still within fair reach. I have become – responsive._

Geralt cursed, the sentence repeating forebodingly in his mind, because this couldn’t end in anything else than horrible. They might be able to kill most of these figures, but knowing Regis' increased responsiveness to blood, Regis might also go into a feral, frenzied state to harvest the blood of the entire population of Beauclair. If he wasn’t already too gone.

He didn’t even hesitate when he sprinted towards Regis, even if he should have been more concerned, not even knowing if Regis even could recognize him anymore.

Using quick steps to land several dozen quick cuts, only to meet steel, he managed to deflect some of the blows that were supposed to land on Regis, increasing the distance between them by throwing people away with Aard.

The blood pounded in his ears.

“ _Regis,_ we have to – “ He yelled, but a bomb exploded and resonated loudly above them in the exact same moment, spreading the familiar smoke and splinters around them again. Although, it didn’t appear to have any major effect on Regis the second time. Moves and attacks turned a bit more sluggish, but they were still too swift and lethal. Geralt had rolled away from Regis' assaults at first, but he was surprised to find that the wings and swipes appeared to deliberately miss him even if he was right in front of him, always going above his head in the last second. Even Regis' steps appeared to avoid Geralt.

It sent a flicker of hope that his Regis was somewhere in those crimson, ferocious eyes. 

The formation of cloaked figures went back in for another assault, dashing in and out near Regis an inhuman speed. Even Regis seemed to have a difficult time to track them, judging by the head snapping around frenziedly.

A ripping noise followed by a roar of rage grabbed Geralt’s attention, seeing a sword sever a deep laceration into Regis' hind leg, another into the wing, cutting a minor fraction of the membrane. They weren’t healing. Like they should. Green substance oozed from the wounds.

_Shit._

Geralt was soaked with sweat, but he still desperately tried to catch up with the attacks, rolling more frequently to change position to fend off the figures with his sword and signs when Regis wasn’t lunging his wings all over the place.

He directed the fire from the Igni sign towards the zooming figures, but it didn't do shit to their cloaks and armor even if he managed to hit one of them, as if even their armor was immune to fire, _as if they had been prepared to fight him._ The only things that continued to work were Aard and Quen, with the figures more resilient to Axii too.

He had to think of a strategy, fast, because this wouldn't last for much longer. He felt how he was loosening strength and energy despite the adrenaline trembling in his veins, almost out of potions as well, even his ability to use signs was decreasing rapidly with his lack of energy. As a result, the figures managed to lay several more strikes on Regis, bypassing Geralt more easily.

A sound of motion erupted at his side, causing him to pivot right, only to find a figure right in front of him. Geralt raised his sword, but not in time as the sword grazed his chest heavily. Cursing loudly, he staggered back, the blood trailing down on his chest and the familiar numb feeling spreading across his skin.

A second blow headed towards him and he conjured the Quen shield, the barrier flashing yellow at the impact of the enemy’s sword. His hands were shaking as he tried to maintain the shield in position, feeling his strength drain by each second as the sword lunged at the sparkling barrier. These bastards were strong and several of the figures had surrounded him now, apparently dealing with two problems at once again. A spike of cold horror went through him as he heard a sound of tearing behind his back.

He didn’t get the chance to find out where it was from, before the entire ground was suddenly shaking, something moving towards them with each step causing a minor earthquake.

The figures scattered around him, escaping from whatever was heading towards them. Geralt spun around, dismantling Quen with the lack of energy, just in time to see Regis striding towards him, red-hued eyes bright with fury, snapping the teeth in the direction of the dark-cloaked shapes while he headed towards Geralt.

“ _Regis,_ ” Geralt tried in a steadier voice than he felt and took a few shaky steps back, trying to make Regis recognize him.

Regis didn't seem to care, not showing any signs of recognition. Regis merely lunged towards him as if he was the next prey, flexing the wings up into the air.

“Shit. _Regis_ ** _-_**!” Geralt managed to shout, about to roll away, when Regis pushed upwards into the air with his massive wings, soaring slightly right in front of him, and enclosed a gigantic clawed foot around him, lifting him up from the ground.

He wheezed, all the air was pushed out of him at the sudden shift of direction and the steely grip of the enormous foot clasping around him.

He could vaguely hear the leader shriek underneath him, ordering everyone to follow them, but Regis just continued to move swiftly in the air, disappearing into the mist. The large body traveled completely soundless as it soared over the lower parts of Beauclair, ignoring the noises of the battle that had begun to rouse the entire city, fires multiplying as small light dots through the mist, guards from the palace and the streets shouting orders.

Geralt’s heart raced, but he kept himself still even if his limbs ached in the uncomfortable and tight position, not daring, with not knowing how much of the more humane side was conscious in Regis' mind.

He almost considered stabbing the foot with his sword, especially when he began to hear the familiar trickling of stirring water, _the lake_.

He took a deep breath, but despite his better judgment, he didn’t do anything, cursing. His endless pile of trust would bite him in the ass one day, _most certainly already today_ , but for Regis to take him out of all the other damn figures was just - not likely. It didn’t add up. It must have been calculated, intentional, even in Regis' frenzied state. 

Geralt watched Regis' eyes scanning the environment frantically, abruptly speeding up as he had apparently found what he was searching for.

Dragging down his gaze, Geralt eyed the small, nearing secluded hill that was covered by an even thicker mist. It didn’t take long until Regis flapped his wings above the ground, loosening the tight hold on him.

Geralt fell softly on the grass and Regis landed his huge body almost right after, nearby instead of on top of him, staring curiously and expectantly when Geralt rose from the ground along with the steel sword, the eyes sharp and searching.

There was nothing recognizable in Regis' face, no cue of human emotions. The blood-red eyes merely continued to watch him, upper lip slightly curled back from the sharp row of teeth. And still, Regis had not even attempted to attack him even once. Just. Standing there. Before him. As if waiting for something.

Geralt didn’t know much about feral higher vampires, since there was no bloody handbook, _which he would desperately ask for if he survived_ , but even this was weird. Even Dettlaff had lunged at Regis, despite being blood-brothers. And that hadn't even been in his bestial form.

He took a deep breath. He was clearly damn crazy for what he was planning.

Taking careful steps towards Regis, he peeled off one of his gloves and raised his half-naked arm, trying to make his own scent more prominent.

 _Did you recognize me somehow? In a sense, yes_.

The growling increased directly and Geralt froze, hair standing straight up at the menacing sound, reminding him that he was dealing with something that could snap his body into two pieces in less of a second. End his life right here.

Then Regis just flared the big nostrils and somehow seemed to deflate into a more relaxed stance again.

He reminded himself to breathe and he continued to take a few more steps, shuffling himself closer without Regis. He didn't even snarl at him this time, more like tilting his head, as if curious.

Having his hand right in front of Regis' snout, he forced to relax his fingers even if they wanted to instinctively curl back and tighten from the danger. Regis seemed to breathe more heavily with Geralt’s skin in front of the snout, appearing to sniff him in a more curious and non-threatening way, categorizing the scent rather than deciding how to best slice him up.

In a matter of seconds, before he even had the chance to react, the snout pushed into the palm of the hand to close the final distance between them, emitting a deep low-bass rumble from Regis' throat, which vibrated through his entire arm. Crimson eyes still completely fixed on him while the warm wafts of exhalation heated his hand.

“Regis?” Geralt whispered lowly, frozen on the spot because he didn’t know what he should do next without getting his hand torn off and when Regis was completely out of his mind.

Crimson eyes blended into a darker shade at the name, black pupils becoming larger until most of the irises turned dark red, and Geralt was sure he saw something more human flash behind those huge glassy surfaces.

The snout retreated back as if it had been burnt, but there was no growling or other signs to say that he was dead meat. The muscles seemed tightened in tension, but it looked more like a human sort of body language than a feral, instinct-driven vampire, the eyes blinking perplexedly at him.

 _Yep_ , Geralt smiled, that was definitely his Regis in those eyes. The more reflecting, emotional creature he knew.

Geralt couldn’t help the little, relieved noise he emitted from his mouth. That was until Regis abruptly turned his large, long back and walked away from him. Fear gripped his stomach again.

“Hey, what are you – “

It was answered by itself when Regis throw the head back with narrowed eyes, which he could only interpret as ‘stay where you are’ before Regis settled behind a few bushes, shape twisting and bending into a much smaller, pale and _naked_ form.

_Oh._

Geralt turned around, remembering how Dettlaff had been completely in his birthday suit after shifting back from his bestial form. Heart sped up a pace, listening to the ominous sounds until the crunching and tearing noises stopped.

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked, remembering the last time Regis had been in a feral state, and that had been merely in his half-full bestial form.

“A bit better, thank you. But – It is all in quite of a – haze,” Regis rasped hoarsely. “Did I kill them?”

“Some of them,” Geralt admitted and turned around, assuming it was safe with the bushes around Regis. He flinched when he saw the several lacerations on Regis’ otherwise unmarred skin. There was especially one deep, fleshy gash that stretched over the arm, which Regis covered most of with one of his hands, blood trailing down on the skin. They still weren’t healing. His heart dropped and began to walk towards him. “Shit, Regis – “

Regis brought up the other hand.

“It is fine. I have been through worse,” Regis grunted, sounding anything than fine. “It is highly likely it is the same substance subjected to Joseff. Thus, I should recover fully within a few days’ time,” Geralt didn’t like the sound of that, worry spreading like wildfire within him. Then Regis raised his bloodshot gaze, eyes widening as well and transfixing on Geralt’s own chest and arm _. “Geralt.”_

Geralt frowned, looking down to realize his own wounds. Blood covered most of his chest armor, drying on the edges, still numb, but it honestly looked worse than it actually was.

“I’m fine. Just scratches. And some numbing feeling, but fine. Probably more resistant to whatever this substance is,” He reassured, even if his chest and arm was wet and sticky from the blood.

But he didn’t care a damn about that when Regis was pale, breathing heavily and having a hard time standing completely straight, eyes hazy and dazed.

Geralt inwardly cursed, taking a few steps forward again. “Dammit Regis. You’re clearly not fine. Let me at least help you.”

Regis shook his head weakly and took a step back. “No need. I can handle it in my own ways.”

Geralt stopped at the pleading sort of voice, patience thinning at Regis’ reluctance to accept help. The hell with modesty. Besides, Regis had gone all about how sex and naked bodies were all natural in the past, _so what the fuck was the problem?_

“Just as you thought could handle it alone by going all feral and snarly in the _middle of Beauclair?_ ” Geralt argued, but not quite finding the energy to be angry, being just relieved that Regis was back and sane.

Regis sighed wearily. “Geralt –“

“ _Regis,_ ” Geralt interrupted and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing where that tone was going. “I’m a witcher, been dealing with attacks and situations like these on a daily basis in the past. I’m not some weak human who isn’t able to take care of myself.”

Regis looked strained and even paler, fidgeting slightly with his hands. Nervous. “I do not doubt your strength, merely – ”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at the upcoming excuses.

“ _Merely what?_ Because the Regis I know wouldn’t just transform into a giant, feral bat – “ Regis made an offended noise at the word to describe his full-bestial form. “Without a damn good reason when you are a recovering blood-addict, unless this addiction is becoming worse than you actually mentioned before,” Geralt squinted his eyes even further. “Is it?”

Regis stiffened, shoulders squaring back, not giving an immediate answer. As if contemplating his answer. _As if trying to cover something._

“No, it is not – worsening,” Regis began to reassure briefly, making Geralt’s eye twitch at the circumstantiality. “I am more responsive, yes, but only to a certain extent.”

Geralt clenched his jaw, throwing a hand out in the air. “Then what is it?” Regis' mouth just thinned. “Damnit Regis, there is something you aren’t telling me.”

Regis closed his eyes for a long second before opening them again, appearing pained at the unwavering, stern expression on Geralt’s face.

“You were – wounded,” Regis said tentatively, averting his gaze as he spoke and struggling with each word. “It is only natural, obvious even, naturally obvious that I wish to protect you, no matter the circumstances, but I do admit that my actions were – inappropriate, but –“ He sighed, looking pained. “Vampires’ instincts may, _well_ , peak when someone – close – is in grave danger,” He continued in a hoarse voice and raised his gaze, honesty written all over his face. “However, I would prefer to have this particular conversation somewhere less – _nude_ – to be entirely frank.”

All of Geralt’s frustration and anger drained from him when he finally took in the sight of Regis with the waist-heightened bush surrounding him, naked, flustered and trying to have a serious conversation despite all of the above. It took all his effort to not laugh outright at the sight.

He couldn’t help himself.

“Sure you are not just trying to – _beat around the bush?_ ” Geralt tried to remain as stoic as possible.

Regis emitted a sound of repulsion, wrinkling his nose as if something smelled horrendous.

“ _Really,_ Geralt?” Regis reprimanded, looking incredulous, but the tone was playful. “I am pleased my degraded state brings such delight to someone at the very least.”

“Yeah. Jumping for joy inside,” Geralt’s said, lips tugging upwards into a smirk. “So – How do you plan to get out of there? _Carry that bush with you?_ ”

Regis sent a sophisticated and dignified glower at him, but Geralt could see the twitches around his mouth.

“My, you certainly know how to soothe a man’s dignity. Thankfully, I have yet a few _tricks_ up in my sleeves,” He said mysteriously, gazing into Geralt’s eyes to keep the enigmatic tension, before he morphed into a trail of black, misty fog.

“Cheat,” Geralt retorted, unimpressed by the trick.

If he didn’t know better he’d swear that the fog twirled vigorously in front of him as if Regis was offended by such unfair, untrue accusation. Geralt only stared at fog, grinning widely as he crossed his arms, the intangible black substance continuing to sway restlessly in the air.

“Sorry, don’t speak ‘fog’,” Geralt snided fondly, chuckling darkly when the fog appeared to twirl even more restlessly.

Then it all slapped him with such a force that he almost tumbled over on the spot.

It was as if all of the pieces suddenly connected together by themselves, hitting him with such a realization that he barely knew what to do with himself besides breathing heavily like a man starving for oxygen.

The way Regis understood his actions, never condemning him for them. He maybe didn’t like them, but he respected them, seeing the reasons behind them. He always felt at ease around Regis, more tranquil, calm. It was never exhausting, merely as if it was as things were supposed to be. How easy it was to talk with Regis. The little endearing quirks of Regis, like the scholarly and detailed speeches, interrupting others to indulge them of his overly large library of knowledge, and the overly empathic character. Helping anyone in his path, despite being an immortal creature with no obligation to care for others in order to survive. He did it out of his own will. The warm, tingling sensation whenever Regis was merely in the room. The involuntary, growing smirks and sharp tugs in his heart whenever Regis directed one of those rare, genuine sharp-fanged smiles at him. The increased heartbeat whenever Regis was decreasing the distance between them. His exceedingly focus to keep Regis safe instead of actually focusing on the true objective of the case anymore.

He was falling.

For his vampire friend.

His _male_ vampire friend.

And he hadn’t even noticed it.

_Well shit._

He was way too old for a sexuality crisis, not to mention to fall for someone else when you were in a relationship, but he still began to inwardly panic at the spot, until a flurry of motion entered in the corner of his eyes, followed by a crack in the air. A thunderous, disheveled woman materialized from nothing, only to storm in disarray towards him, running fretful eyes over and around him. The red hair fluttered madly behind her.

“I tried to arrive as quickly as I could, where is – ” Orianna’s caught sight of the misty substance lingering around Geralt, abruptly stopping her sentence and staring stunned at the black, incorporeal shell. That was until her eyes twisted into something mischievous, looking intrigued. “ _Oh_ , I see the situation has been taken care of already.”

Geralt frowned, scoffing. “Yeah, managed to calm him down if that’s what you are implying.”

“Did you now?” She said, words curling in a way that was too saccharine, her eyes twinkling at Regis.

The smoke twirled more impatiently above him, as if Regis was not too pleased with Orianna's mischievous tone, but not being able to defend himself in his current naked situation.

Geralt smirked at the reminder, which was abruptly cut when something invisible pushed him away from Orianna.

“Hey!” Geralt said, mildly flummoxed at Regis’ eagerness to apparently increase the distance between them. That was when he noticed the rugged edges and the several, familiar non-healing wounds all over the pale, silky skin of Orianna. And the lack of a certain sarcastic presence. Geralt felt his stomach clench in fear. “What happened? Where is Evelyn?”

Orianna regarded him with the as ever composed and unruffled expression.

“She is heading for Corvo Bianco as we speak. But not to worry, the ones’ who inflicted these gashes are in a worse condition than me. A few in an – _irreversible_ condition,” Orianna said with a tiny, unsettling smile, seeming to glow with pleasure and pride. But before Geralt could respond, the expression turned more grave and serious. “Apparently they weren't entirely prepared that two additionally higher vampires of the higher ranks would take their bait, because they were hunting for something else this time,” Orianna’s sharp, hazel eyes met his. “ _You_.”

Dread spread inadvertently in his stomach again. He already knew this, but that also meant –

“Joseff – “

“Is most likely safe. I sent Evelyn to fetch him once I had finally managed to gain the upper hand. I directed her to meet us at the Mére-Lachaiselongue cemetery,” She elaborated without answering his question fully.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at the short answers. “Still haven’t answered my question. Where even were you two? What happened – “

“We do not have time for details, _master witcher_. Several of them are heading this way. Granted, it will take time to circumvent the lake, but I rather not jeopardy our chances. Not when my hunches of their nature have been confirmed,” Orianna interjected quickly, even Geralt could hear the slightly agitated tone behind the otherwise composed and unruffled facade. “I’ll tell you all about it when we have gathered.” She finished without giving him a chance to question her, already walking hurriedly away towards the cemetery without even getting a response from them.

He took a few steps with the fog following him, and abruptly halted.

These perpetrators were looking for him. They would probably keep vigilant eyes around Toussaint until they found him. Especially around Corvo Bianco. Where Yen would head to after her emotions had settled down.

_Shit._

“Wait.” He said breathlessly. “Yen. Someone got to inform her somehow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeell, I'm going on a vacation after this and then university will begin again for me, but! This term is my practice term with real clients, aka, basically no essays or exams. So, hopefully I'll get a lot more spare time to write on this!
> 
> _(If anyone wants to ask me stuff, send me ideas, keep up with me or just talk to me then I'm more (ish) active on tumblr: yowzie.tumblr.com ;) )_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a new year miracle! So sorry for the late update as always. I had thought my practical term would be less work and it was kinda chill in the beginning, but nooo, the workplace (where I was practicing) hit me with like 26343672364 things to do after the first three weeks. At least I managed to finish this bad boy during my Christmas break. Woooh!

Geralt tapped impatient fingers on his arm as he leaned against one of the walls in the cemetery, pushing down the anxiety. They were all huddled in the small confined cemetery with Orianna staring fixedly at the entrance of the cemetery, listening as if something was lurking around the graveyard. The long, torn dress still draped over her slim figure as some sort of well-worn battle token, not caring about her almost non-healing wounds.

Flickering anxious eyes at Regis who was sitting on a chair beside him, _more clothed_ with a suspiciously similar set of clothes as before, Geralt stared at the pale figure who was tending tentatively to his wounds and occasionally cursing under his breath whenever he thought Geralt wasn’t paying attention. But that was exactly the problem, Geralt noticed everything since yesterday’s revelation.

He had tried to suppress the revelation into the back of his mind as he usually did with unwanted feelings, ignore them and tell himself that he couldn’t possibly have feelings for his male companion, but without much success. The feelings wrapped around him like a thick blanket. Constantly reminding and mocking him of their existence by swirling and fluttering around aimlessly in his body. He suddenly didn’t know how he, _how anyone_ , could manage to even move from the spot with so many feelings inside of his chest. Mainly because he was not used to feeling strong emotions most of the time. Now these revealed feelings were everywhere. In everything. As if someone suddenly had busted a wall of glass around him to reveal a completely different world on the other side.

He just wanted to groan and crawl under a bed. Scratch his chest until he dug out whatever rested in there.

But being around Regis reminded him all the fucking time.

He was supposed to be aware of his surroundings, to be constantly vigilant of monsters, beasts and enemies. And last time he checked, that list didn’t include a certain ridiculously snarky and utterly selfless vampire who tried to educate or mock him half of the time.

He was supposed to yearn after Yennefer, who was finally back, within reach and settled in an estate at the idyllic countryside. Not worrying about anything besides his glass running dry of wine.

He was not supposed to be in lo – No. He wasn’t even going to think the word. Because it was the very indication that his relationship with Yen was beyond reparation. Even if he had known that for a long time, he was not prepared to face the truth. Not yet. He had been working too hard to merely see it fail as well, god dammit.

He had always imagined himself as someone loyal. It was a part of him, as much as his famous spirit to fight against evil, greater, lesser, middling. Never wanting to be one of those people who cheated on their lover. Especially not Yen. She had been his companion. Died as she had tried to heal him. Ciri’s unofficial mother. She deserved better than that after all she had been going through. Someone who gave her the attention she deserved. He had even been prepared to fight for her affections against her previous lover, Istredd, which subsequently led her to become enough torn to indirectly leave him. Even if he was more suitable for her than Geralt. Hell, Istredd had asked her to marry him. Of course, she had left both of them in the end, but they still got back together later on. And still here he was. His own feelings stolen from him and twisted into something else. Something happier. Showing him how things should be. Showing that loyalty isn't always a good thing. Only in certain doses. Like everything else.

He was finally beginning to think that maybe he, both of them, had been holding onto some sort of ideal that had never matched with reality. At least after the djinn had broken the spell. Both holding onto this dream, this doomed relationship. Because none of them wanted to see reality. He felt shame. For saying nothing, and for keeping them both trapped in an unfulfilled, exhausting, not-quite-miserable relationship for years. Now it was too late to fix it. Or maybe it had always been.

Still, it wasn’t right to fall for someone else in the meantime. 

He groaned softly and his head hurt, trying to concentrate on anything but the hot, thick emotions that were almost choking him on the spot.

And apparently he had been wandering off in his thoughts again as two puzzled and dark eyes stared up at him, blinking up at him owlishly.

“I suppose you are not admiring my delicate attributes?” Regis mocked, curling his lip slightly upwards. 

Geralt looked away immediately, unable to prevent his stomach from tightening at the sight.

“What can I say. Got a thing for pale, tattered faces apparently,” Geralt drawled. If Regis only knew how close it was to the truth. A bit too close.

Regis smirked wryly.

“ _Indeed?_ Then you are in for quite the treat. I have been hoarding and maintaining these particular exquisite wrinkles for centuries. Quite impressive, wouldn’t you say?” Regis inquired with a fake, heavy contemplation on his face.

The humor was quite dampened with the sight of green ooze still dripping slightly from the wounds, still not closing, and the heavy intakes of breath from Regis. Eyes still dazed and hazy.

“You sure I shouldn’t look at the wounds?” Geralt asked, staring worriedly at the particularly long, open gash which stretched over Regis’ arm.

“I already tended to most of it. It should heal accordingly, don’t you worry. This is hardly as the time I was severed into several different parts,” Regis reassured and threw a strained, crooked smile at him.

Geralt knew him a bit too well by now to know that Regis was trying not to add to his guilt complex, distract him from everything. Prevent him from doing anything rash since Joseff and Evelyn had still not arrived, and it had been half an hour. His muscles were taut and desperate to take action.

Higher vampires were simply never late and Regis knew this too. Even if he tried to hide his anxiety from Geralt, since Regis probably knew more about his guilt complex than anyone else. Or rather figured out after all those audacious journeys. Regis had always been terribly vigilant, too much at times. Sometimes, back in those days, when they were all camped around the sparkling, fluttering fire to keep the cold and darkness in his heart away, Regis had fixed his eyes on him, scrutinizing him as if nothing else had mattered. As if he saw something completely invisible to Geralt, staring at his soul.

Then again, it was true. All those deaths. If they had never met Geralt, if he had persisted to not let them follow him, they would probably still be alive. And now another two might have been killed, because of him.

Geralt took a breath, long and low, gut twining.

_Fuck this._

He stopped tapping and straightened his pose, walking towards the exit.

Regis jerked his head up, alarmed. “Geralt?”

“Can’t stay here. Need to get back. Warn Yen when she gets back. And neither Joseff nor Evelyn have – “

Regis sighed loudly. “Geralt –“

“They are after  _me_ Regis,” Geralt interrupted, throwing a resolute glance over his shoulders and walking down the stairs, not falling for that pleading tone. “Can’t have another one die because of me, I can’t – “

“ _Geralt,_ ” Regis repeated, suddenly in front of him and grabbing both of his arms to make him completely still. Regis’ stern, black irises locked with his narrow, anxious slithered pupils. Geralt inwardly cursed at his heart beginning to hammer at the new distance between them. Too close. “My fowls will signal any new presence around the estate and I will, without a doubt, set out myself after the slightest noise from them. There is no need for you to really partake in the role of the cliché gallant, self-sacrificing hero to match the description of Dandelions many memoirs.”

Geralt scowled and raked his eyes over the sweating and shaking figure before him, all pale and veins protruding. “You can barely stand –“

“I _will_ set out to help,” Regis said more resolutely, the sharp nails beginning to dig into his skin. “Therefore, I beg of you, as far as tactics go then do not play after their strings. That is what they expect of you. _What they want._ And I can not –  “ Regis broke off mid-sentence in his frantic rambling, voice cracking with an emotion Geralt couldn’t figure out and closing his eyes for a mere moment before leaning closer and opening them again. Geralt’s breath hitched at those fierce eyes, thinking suddenly a hazard. “Please. Not when there is an entirely reasonable and safe alternative.”

Geralt snorted, trying to waft away the thick cloud in his head. “Don’t care. Isn’t exactly safe for you either and might also be too late when you arrive, better if I –“

The grip tightened even further, the hands surprisingly warm and soft around his wrists despite the pale pallor.

“Geralt, you need to trust me on this. We higher vampires can travel faster than you humans can even perceive,” Regis explained patiently, seemingly unperturbed by the proximity. The spices very prominent, flooding into Geralt’s nose. ”I will not let the same mistake happen twice. I intend to keep my promise this time.” He finished, his expression suddenly strained and regretful.

Geralt’s heart dropped, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply.

“It wasn’t your fault back then. Couldn’t have known he would attack her,” Geralt reassured quietly, actually meaning it. “Nothing happened in the end.”

Regis shook his head ruefully. “That is not the point, which you very well know. I suspect things would not have turned out as well without the ribbon. I should have foreseen it. Foreseen him, knowing his unpredictability. It is nothing but adequate for me trying to redeem myself. Set things right this time.”

Geralt regarded Regis’ sternly determined face, his heart pounding painfully in this chest, and he was certain Regis could hear and feel his hammering pulse too.

He sighed.

“Fine, alright already. But you aren’t going alone either,” Geralt said resignedly, scowling at Regis who instantly opened his mouth to argue. “Not when there are others who can help, won’t let you. You’re one of the last ones I want to lose.”

Geralt’s eyes widened, because the words had blurted out without his permission.

Regis stilled and regarded him with a soft, affectionate gaze that could melt the frost from a chilly, murky winter morning. His mouth was suddenly very dry, swallowing helplessly at how warm the expression was making him.

“Also don’t want to write ‘Regis the Hypocrite’ on your gravestone,” Geralt added, as if it would somehow decrease the sentimentality, turning his head away.

Regis snorted in amusement, eyes still kind and gleaming. “Of course not. That would be terribly toilsome for you, not to mention scandalous with such an appallingly dull summarizing for someone as devilishly mesmerizing as myself.”

A tickling sensation washed all over his body without his permission.

“Mhm? Got to live until I find a better description then,” _Live with me,_ was such a clear underlying insinuation that Geralt wanted to hit himself. Preferably until he was unconscious.

“ _Hush,_ ” Orianna abruptly commanded, a hand in the air towards them. Her features flickering in the dim-lighted room, orange hues dancing on her new protruding sharp edges.

Regis and Geralt went silent in an instant, confused with Orianna who suddenly stood very still.

Then he heard it too. Footsteps in the distance, closing in on them, above them.

Geralt disentangled himself from Regis, reaching for his steel sword while Regis placed himself in front of him.

The footsteps became quicker, running towards them. Several of them. Regis elongated his claws and fangs, sharp hisses sounding under his breath –

“Superb accommodation this, the one-thousand cobwebs really contribute to that homely, rustic feeling, _is that a dead crow_ –” Evelyn’s voice of derision went into a higher pitch, stopping short as she busted into view, Joseff trailing along behind her. Joseff threw them a beaming smile with all teeth while Evelyn merely sighed at the sight, putting a hand on her hip, apparently not even the least intimated by the committee fully prepared to strike them. “Lovely. I had hoped I had received the wrong directions. So _this_ really is the top-secret base for our incredibly important mission then?” She added and wrinkled her nose, staring disgruntled around her as if the ancient blocks were insulting her by their existence.

“Still better than your room,” Joseff murmured.

Evelyn mockingly lip-mimicked Joseff’s comeback, earning a pouting tongue from him.

Geralt let out a long breath he had been holding, sheathing his sword while the other two elder vampires visibly relaxed their stances by morphing into their regular forms.

“What took you so damn long?” Geralt demanded, quickly scrutinizing them for any wounds.

Evelyn threw him an annoyed look. “So sorry, thought this was one of the moments in which ‘the more the merrier’ doesn’t exactly apply. So, of course I chose the safer option before the fast one since I did not exactly want to create customized arrows pointing to our exact location for this dreadfully merry party. I would like to see you do better when the whole of bloody Toussaint got black mysterious figures lurking all over the place. Not to mention the guards. You stirred quite the commotion.”

Geralt snorted, anxiety decreasing as he wasn’t discovering any life-threatening gashes on neither Evelyn nor Joseff. Despite Orianna’s cold and composed appearance, Evelyn had far fewer wounds, occasional tears in her dark, leathery clothes, but Geralt assumed Orianna had been a lot keener on protecting Evelyn rather than herself judging by the severe difference in wounds between them. Maybe the old bat had a heart after all. Somewhere.

“Sorry. Will try to not defend myself the next time I’m surrounded by mysterious, cloaked figures hungry for my blood. Perhaps playing dead will do the trick,” Geralt derided dryly.

“That’s the spirit,” Evelyn chirped in an overly cheerful voice.

“If you are quite finished. Then I think it is finally time, now when we have all gathered to this merry location,” Orianna interrupted, lacking the regular ever-so-patient and coy tone to it, as if there was suddenly not enough time for an immortal creature.

“Time for what?” Geralt asked, eyebrow rising.

Orianna’s expression twisted into something dark, turning her glowing, hazel eyes on them all. “For an explanation.”

* * *

“We call them Nauruct M’tau. Champions. Shepherds of the flock,” Orianna said ominously, the wind whistling eerily through the front door in the distance.

Geralt’s forehead creased, not following. “Shepherds of what?”

Orianna turned her head idly, silky hair shifting on her shoulders as she peered at him with half-lidded shrewd eyes for a long moment. Clearly considering something.

She shifted her whole position elegantly as something altered in her face, turning her front towards them to reveal long, irritated gashes on her arms.

“Recall your question about why our kind stopped experimenting and enslaving humans at the beginning of our era here?” Orianna said low and serious, the intensity of her gaze increasing towards Geralt.

Geralt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Well yeah, but your kind always avoid -”

“The topic?” Orianna interrupted dryly. “Master witcher, have you ever considered the reason why an entire race would avoid a certain topic?”

He had, but not even Regis, who was a friend, wanted to tell him the truth. So, guessing was pointless if there wasn’t anyone to verify and praise his incredible deductions.

“Kinda figured it was your way to speak in general. A straight answer would be downright scandalous,” Geralt said equally drily, making Evelyn snort in the bed at the other side of the room, which she occupied along with Joseff. Running a hand through Joseff's hair and letting him rest on her arm, she obviously listened intensely to the conversation even if she tried to appear uninterested.

“Or perhaps it entails a secret so dear that it could monopoly the very survival of the entire vampiric race?” Orianna admitted, disturbingly unperturbed unlike the others who whisked their heads towards her, looking baffled. “And it just so happens that I, too, prefer to live for another day.”

Geralt’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, bewildered.

“Then why are you telling –“ Geralt began, stopping himself abruptly as the cogs in his brain begin to move. Orianna would never reveal such information. Geralt narrowed his eyes. _Unless -_ “You think the information has leaked in another location recently. That it is the reason why this is all happening now.”

Orianna folded her arms conceitedly over her chest and tsk’ed disappointedly at him, the head shifting along with each tsk.

“Witcher, it is not a question of probability anymore after tonight. Otherwise I would never even consider giving you a hint of this information,” Orianna confessed bluntly. “I need all the help I can acquire. Tend to this certain irritating matter as quickly as possible. Help from those I can trust to be – _discrete,_ ” She added, a pleased and amused half-smile spreading on her face. “And your rather – _Hm,_ close bond to Regis makes you a rather fair candidate.”

“And what, precisely, is he a fair candidate to?” Regis stepped in, narrowing his eyes at Orianna and decreasing the distance to Geralt. Their hands almost touching. Geralt cursed at the swoop in his heart. “Because I have always been led to believe that there is almost none to nothing to pose as a threat to us. At the very best, the creatures in this world only managed to pose as bothersome.”

Orianna chuckled darkly, without any humor to it, shaking her head.

“A charming, little bedtime story to make all the descendants rest better at nightfall. Hide a heritage with a much less, _graceful_ , history in this world,” Orianna said with a dark, bitter undertone to it all. “The fewer who knows it, the less risk of the information reaching into the wrong hands.”

Geralt went still, realizing the underlying implication. _All the descendants._ “But that makes you –“

“Old? I prefer the term _experienced,_ ” Orianna flashed him one of her rare smiles, all teeth and predatory, the inhuman, sharp incisors showing their existence.

Geralt merely stared at her for several seconds.

“Don’t exactly standoff as the elderly material,” Geralt blurted out after a considerable pause, exchanging questioning looks with Regis who had paled even further. Just as taken aback.

“One of the firsts, all this time –“ Regis muttered mostly to himself, clutching to the hem of his shirt as some sort of a replacement for the satchel.

“I will take that as a compliment, _master witcher,_ ” Orianna merely tutted, using his title as the highest insult these days, ignoring Regis. “I was a mere child during the Conjunction of the Spheres, but I do remember the first centuries on this planet and I may have never found much sympathy for humankind to begin with. But even I have to admit that we were not exactly the most - _sympathetic_ \- of races back then. Mainly because we did not know the implication of our actions at the time.”

Geralt’s stomach churned, his thoughts directly associating with those cages in Tesham Mutna and the skeletons he had found in them. All different sizes. The old bones brittle and cracked in odd, unnatural spots.

Not to mention the journals and documents. He didn’t even want to know what kind of things had happened there. All those experiments.

“Yeah, I know. Seen your work at Tesham Mutna,” Geralt muttered darkly, voice tight in his throat.

Orianna’s lips tightened, dragging a piercing, cold gaze over to Regis.

“Mhm, is that so? And I suspect it was not a midnight stroll for a _rendezvous_?” Orianna uttered slyly, drawing out the last word and curling her lip upwards to show her incisors. Regis seemed to appear sheepish for once, flickering his gaze around the room, but Orianna quickly leveled her gaze with Geralt again. “However, those acts were positively delightful in comparison to some other parts of our history here.”

“Like these shepherds?” Geralt quirked an eyebrow.

Orianna regarded him for a second with ominous, piercing eyes. “Quite so.”

“And for those who do not follow this conversation at all, what does that even mean with these shepherds?” Evelyn snarked at them, wafting one dramatic hand in the air.

“The very sign that the Free-Range Husbandry School won in the end,” Orianna said flatly.

The air escaped Geralt’s lungs.

“I – what?” Geralt blinked, the heat escaping from his body, remembering those old tomes he had found in Tesham Mutna. _Human Husbandry and Care. Battery-Cage vs. Free-Range Humans._

A disturbingly delighted and amused expression flickered across Orianna’s features, cocking her head to the side.

“ _Hm,_ a master witcher who has never wondered why Toussaint is so prosperous in comparison to other lands? In the land with the most countered numbers of vampires? How amusing,” Orianna said coyly, mocking him. Her irises suddenly paled, leaving an eerie, white ring around the pupil. “But perhaps you should count yourself fortunate. The others were not quite as – _ignorant._ ”

Hairs began to prickle upon Geralt’s neck, perfectly able to imagine what they had stumbled upon. Perhaps it was not that peculiar anymore that a lot of witchers had fallen in Toussaint. They always dug a little too deep.

Geralt squinted his slithered eyes.

Orianna was peculiarly knowledgeable, probably because of her age, but perhaps also for an entirely different reason. She was, after all, the key to seeing the unseen elder of all the other higher vampires in Toussaint according to Regis. Like some sort of gatekeeper. Not only to the unseen elder. He just didn’t know what, except it had something to do with those old tomes he had found.

Geralt swallowed heavily, wondering what exactly he had thrown himself into for once. “Then these shepherds – “

“Are exactly as they sound,” Orianna finished, waving an impatient hand in the air. “None of the vampires you have encountered lied when they answered why we are not enslaving humans. It was a copious amount of work to keep them fed, bred and controlled. Not to mention how the distress tainted their delightful sweetness,” Orianna looked oddly nostalgic, eyelids lowered, as if the taste of sweet still lingered on her tongue. “As a fine wine collection going sour.”

Geralt shivered at the crestfallen voice and the almost sensual way she was describing it all, making him tighten his fists. Or not as much as a sensual way, but as the way a gourmet discoursed about piquant and exquisite food after the right balance of seasoning.

“So instead you made them believe they were free instead,” Geralt summarized after reading all those discourse tomes, feeling a tickle of trepidation over his spine. Because that meant Toussaint – _Shit._

Orianna’s face seemed to lighten up, eyes turning back to hazel, humming coyly at him.

“Indeed. Humans are _so easily satisfied_ when you know what makes your kind tic. We find it peculiar, but freedom is something well-sought among your kind. Enough to kill for. Enough to be deceived,” Orianna said in a saccharine tone, eyes glowing yellow in the dark. “Although, we needed something to look after our _flocks_.”

Then it suddenly dawned upon him, as a curtain opening to a stage. That certain, one document that had been strange, even to him. _I am he who serves the Tribe._

“Champions of Tesham Mutna,” Geralt said breathlessly, realization hitting him hard.

Orianna’s corners of her lip turned into a full, sinister grin.

“A mere human would be no match for monsters, but what if we experimented with them _a bit_ , mutated them?” _I think I will have to examine your heart in the laboratory._ The transcript had said. _What do you mean… examine?_ “Few survived the ordeal, but those who did had a certain combination that made them stronger, more resilient.” Orianna paused meaningfully, icy eyes boring into Geralt. “Higher vampire genes.”

Geralt drew in a sharp, surprised breath. “Like witchers.”

“Just so,” Orianna confirmed, turning away her head briskly. But Geralt had already seen enough, believing he had seen something similar to regret simmering below the surface. “Shortly after the experiments were rather successful, we labeled this trial as a prize only given to those worthy. A ticket to freedom, a promotion from those confining cages. A way to become one of our own, welcomed even,” Orianna uttered with a trace of pity, mouth twisting into a sour little smile. “Little did they know it was merely propaganda, in which those who accepted fought against each other until death. Only for us to find the strongest and most likely humans to survive the trial. To serve as dogs to shepherd the upcoming flock raised for slaughter,” Orianna released a short, controlled breath, but the demons of her past flared around her in an invisible halo. “That was what Tesham Mutna was truly built for.”

“That was why that dungeon was –” Geralt stopped mid-sentence, not wanting to say it out aloud, especially not around Joseff, who had stirred, almost as pale as the sheets underneath him. Evelyn merely pulled Joseff tighter to her.

Geralt felt a rush of nausea, knowing that torture chamber had been too big to merely be a prison for a higher vampire. It had been outfitted later to suit as a torture chamber after all, meaning it had been used as something else before. He side-glanced at Regis, who had closed his eyes, skin wrinkling in shame. Even if he hadn’t even been there, he felt shame for his brethren. But Geralt was only suffused by painful affection for this creature, who is feeling empathy for humans he hadn’t even known. That wasn’t even his fault.

“I admit I knew parts of this, or rather deduced from all our tomes, _but this_ – I think I need a rather strong mug of mandrake brew,” Regis lips quirked, sounding repulsed.

“Seconded, I think I also need to slit something of mine to compensate for this dreadfully, cheerful story. No wonder people see us as monsters and where the myths took inspiration from,” Evelyn drawled, squinting her eyes skeptically. ”So what, are these mysterious cloaks the remaining experiments trying to get their revenge?”

“Surely not, even lesser vampires perish after a century. Unless these creatures inherited parts of our long life?” Regis added to the questions, bewildered.

Orianna sighed, seeming to sag in defeat.

“They did, as far as we could tell at least,” Orianna said grimly, as if she was regretting some of her past for once. “But they are not the same. We obliterated all evidence, because they posed as quite the threat by knowing our secrets, possessing our characteristics and knowledge. It was a matter of time before they would question our authority,” Orianna eyed them all sharply, like a teacher lecturing her pupils. “This is why our codex demands to cremate any dead remains of higher vampires. We did not want to figure out what would happen if other creatures figured out the results from this themselves. But well, it appears that question has been rather answered.”

Toussaint’s entire population of lesser vampires being eradicated from it. Guess their suspicious nature was well-founded. But if these mutated humans weren’t the first ones, then what was their reason to begin with to erase all the vampires? Revenge for Dettlaff’s tantrum seemed a bit far-fetched. Unless they truly wanted to prevent it from happening ever again. Break free from the vampires' clutches all over them.

“But why are they even a problem if they aren’t anything but lesser vampires? Secrets do not mean much if they are just as susceptible to our weaknesses as us, especially as lower beings. What’s hindering us from eliminating them again?” Evelyn probed, leaning forward, making the bed creak. “Even less does that explain how Geralt, _a fragile human_ , can help us, _higher vampires_.”

“Evelyn!” Joseff hissed at his sister, straightening on the bed.

“What?” Evelyn widened her eyes innocently, shrugging. “It is a genuine question.”

Orianna twisted around towards Evelyn, raising an eyebrow. “In normal circumstances I would agree, but humans do not bestow the same constitution as vampires, which is at times an advantage as little as I want to admit it.”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “And what does that mean exactly?”

“It means their constitution is not susceptible to material from our worlds, just as material from their world do not affect us. Except for silver to a certain degree,” Orianna explained, lips taut. “And not only do Nauruct M’tau possess the abilities of lesser vampires, but they also share the constitution of a human. Thus, in combination with the higher vampire genes, they become stronger, faster, more resilient and yet not as susceptible to what weakens us.”

A sharp breath of intake sounded beside Geralt.

“The genes balancing each other, compensating for the other’s weaknesses the same way as chimeras,“ Regis stated gravely, his voice breathless and deadly serious.

 _Chimeras?_ Geralt frowned at the new word.

“Exactly. And this – “ Orianna untangled her neatly crossed arms to demonstrate one of the wounds on her left hand. It was green, irritated, and almost black around the edges as if the tissue was dead. She reached her other hand into the wound, extracting some of the green substance that stuck to her fingers. “Suggests they also gained the information of the few materials that can actually kill a higher vampire without another one of our kin, unlike the previous shepherds.”

Regis’ wrinkles strained further, clearly being bothered by something.

“Probably not a suggestion any longer. I found a small portion of delvinite around your estate, most likely carried by one of the perpetrators,” Regis added, drawing up a murky, grey piece of metal from his pockets for all to see in his clawed hand. Geralt furrowed his brows. _When the hell had he found that?_ “Nevertheless, I strictly recall that all material of our world is scarce, mostly serving as jewelry. Hardly enough to weaken, even less kill a higher vampire. The last, larger portion of delvinite was used to create the alloy to contain Khagmar.”

Orianna’s mouth thinned, casting her eyes to the stone-floor, her posture rigid.

“Alas, there is more, far more in the cave of our elder. It contains a part of our world, which is mainly why we're stranded in this world to begin with. It was never voluntary, no matter what others may delude themselves with,” Orianna said solemnly, a faraway and solemn glint in her eyes. Weary and fatigued, as if she had crossed the world for a solution to all her problems without finding it. As if she was tired of it all. “A vast, powerful portal opened in our world in the middle of our main cities, Marcuthe, during the Conjunction of The Spheres, drawing in parts of it along with the inhabitants to this other hostile world.”

With one of the most ancient and powerful vampires within it.

“That why your elder is there? Guarding it?” Geralt inquired.

Orianna lifted her intense gaze. “Indeed, it contains the unique flora and ores from our original world, along with the closed gate. The only materials we are susceptible towards with the right amount.”

“And they have gained access to these resources in some way,” Regis concluded grimly, reading between the lines.

Orianna nodded once, her slim and delicate figure gleaming ghostly even in the orange light. “Afraid so.”

“How did you eliminate them in the past then?” Evelyn asked straight on, impatient and her stare unwavering.

Orianna sighed dramatically, shoulders faltering slightly. “Most of the higher vampires were in Toussaint at the time. It was not a difficult feat to eliminate an entirely new species.”

“Shouldn’t we inform the other higher vampires after all then? Even the odds by gathering them all?” Geralt suggested.

The atmosphere turned baleful in an instant, like someone had flipped a switch, Orianna looming over him even with the several meters between them.

“Geralt,” Orianna said in a low rumble, cold. “I do not care for humans, not in the very least, but I am trying my utmost for once to solve this peacefully since I prefer Toussaint calmed, not creating a vast land as I informed before. Informing the others is the last resort, because they'd rather obliterate everything for good measure, or perish, than letting the last piece of our world fall into the hands of mortals.”

Geralt swallowed, the scar on his head itching for once with the uncomfortable tingling in his nerve endings by the woman’s authority.

“So, what do you even want us to do then?” Geralt continued, trying to seem unaffected.

Her body language changed almost at once at the question, shoulders drooping, and eyes went unfocused and uncertain, looking away.

“To be entirely candid, I am not entirely certain. We need to track the source of these experiments before their numbers become an invincible force to be reckoned with or the information reaches the other higher vampires. Combine our strengths to minimize the threat,“ Orianna replied mysteriously, folding her arms neatly again and strolling to the balustrade to drift her eyes over the cemetery. “No, I believe we need to even our odds in another way.”

Geralt’s forehead creased in confusion. “But how?”

Orianna didn’t answer for a while, idly rotating her head with the red hair framing her delicate visage. Eyes intense. “By visiting Marcuthe.”

“The city from our world?” Regis asked, wide-eyed and shocked.

“Yes, at least what is left of it,” Orianna said, her voice rough. “It is inconveniently located underneath the lake, falling apart with each century in those caves.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What’s down there?”

“Armor and weapons that have been aptly crafted to protect us from – “

The silhouette of Orianna suddenly swayed in his vision, oozing darkness creeping upwards from the inside. His body very heavy, too heavy to hold straight as his vision blurred. Geralt stumbled forward, barely registering the motion before a sturdy, strong arm caught him by the chest to prevent him from falling to the cold stone-floor.

“ _Geralt!?_ ” Regis' voice echoed, frantic and concerned, but everything was distant. As if he was not quite in this world.

Geralt brought up a numb hand to run over his face, feeling the sinking sensation dissipating and senses regaining their original state. His face very warm, especially around his neck.

Turning his head around, he was faced by a very close face of a very familiar vampire, flickering anxious eyes over him, wafting hot breath over his skin – he could even see tiny flecks of light and dark red in Regis’ irises with this distance.

“My my, it appears he is not as resilient to the substance as he liked to believe. Curious, since he is a human after all,” Orianna’s voice droned in the distance, with a flicker of concern well-hidden in the tone.

“Perhaps the combination with other genes from the trial of grasses aren’t responding accordingly to the foreign substance,” Regis concluded seriously, hands tightening over Geralt in concern. His voice much closer and present than before. “I reckon it's high time to tend to your wounds, despite your reluctance.”

Geralt’s heart went up to his throat, heat suffusing in his cheeks as he realized the situation.

“I’ll be fine. Probably just temporary,” Geralt grunted, straightening his posture to increase the distance between them, but the arm around his chest refused to budge.

“ _Ah,_ excellent. Professional precision. I daresay you are in luck then. It just so happens that I am a surgeon on temporary wounds and temporary examinations, of the highest caliber even,” Regis mocked, tone still firm.

Geralt fought against the smile growing on his lips, mind still whirling. His stomach was acting weird again. Damn somersaults like it was some sort of party.

“Can do it myself. Don’t need – “ Geralt started.

“A healer, a well-established surgeon who has treated thousands of humans and wounds alike in an exceptionally professional manner?” Regis chided teasingly, arching his brows in a challenge.

Rather he didn’t want those hands anywhere near his bare skin, the mere thought of those fingers running over his skin made his whole body flash hot, his heart stopping for a mere second before it thumped twice as fast. If a mere thought affected him this way, then he sure as hell didn’t trust himself with the real thing.

“Careful. Might cut yourself on that sharp sarcasm,” Geralt derided in a slightly raspy voice, trying to calm down, which was hard with those intense, dark-red eyes staring at him. Another arm wriggled its way around his back to grip his waist while he was distracted, which made the fluttering sensation in his stomach even worse.

“Not to worry. It is to my knowledge that battle wounds are actually quite attractive in these modern times,” Regis said, a full-on smirk on his face, eyes gleaming as he pulled Geralt closer, side to side, towards him to steady him. It rather had the opposite effect to Geralt. “Now, be ever so kind to lift those legs of yours. One at the time, mind you.”

Geralt snorted, knowing he was losing the battle as he let himself be led to the stairs. He blamed his brain that couldn’t think straight. In more than one way apparently.

He took a deep breath, smelling the different spices and something original that wasn’t from the herbs. Like refreshing petrichor after well-shought rain. Regis actual scent?

“Wouldn’t be able to fend you away even if I beat you with a stick, would I?” Geralt derided, trying to ignore the comforting, warm hand on his waist.

Regis chuckled, peering at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Perhaps. It would prove quite the sight if nothing else. But I am afraid, _Geralt_ – “ Regis stopped in their movement, leaning closer, breath tickling his chin. “You have always been a bit too fascinating for me to completely stay away.”

For a heart-stopping moment, Geralt could only stare at the vampire. Remembering faintly the vampire who had still followed him back when Geralt had exiled him after he had found out about him being a higher vampire. Regis had still been around him, invisible, watching him from the shadows. Hell, he hadn’t even allowed Geralt to be alone with his grim thoughts, appearing to mock and question his guilt complex. While Geralt continued to snap at him to leave him alone.

He still didn’t understand. How Regis had still wanted his company, despite his cold and shitty demeanor.

The world around them disappeared, becoming aware of just how close they were to each other. Those eyes so dark and big in the faint light of the room, kind and watchful, waiting for Geralt’s response. But the pounding in his throat made it difficult to speak.

“Don’t mind us. Just. Sitting here. Watching this,” Evelyn said abruptly, effectively breaking whatever spell had been on them. Geralt was the first one to flinch away and send narrowed eyes to a certain vampire on the bed, looking all smug and amused at them.

“Fuck off,” Geralt scoffed, finding sentences a bit difficult to compose all of the sudden.

“You know, I’m beginning to recall a particular word from this. _Oh_ \- what was it again. Ah yes, there is a remarkable thing called helping the needed,” Regis added wryly, taking a steadier grip to help Geralt move across the plateau.

Evelyn waved a blasé hand in the air.

“Details. Besides, I believe Geralt is in rather good hands,” Evelyn smirked knowingly. Geralt didn’t like it at all. “But I will probably vomit if I see any more of this - _affection._ ”

“Should try it sometime. Having friends,” Geralt said with heavy sarcasm, a bit breathless, just to hit her somewhere.

Evelyn’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Sounds tedious,” Evelyn managed to respond before Geralt was hauled down the stairs, much to his dismay. Or rather. Much to his dislike for liking having a certain warm vampire pressed against him. Geralt groaned inwardly. He somewhat felt like this was going to be hell.

* * *

Geralt clamped his lips together into a thin line, heart hammering in his shirtless chest. His posture probably completely stiff even if he tried his hardest to relax in the chair, listening intensely to the wringing of a cloth beside him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a smooth hand touched the skin around the wound. The thumb rubbing in small, gentle circles, making his skin tingle. Each motion sent another shiver of heat across his spine, Geralt’s pulse going off the chart, flickering his gaze all over the fucking room to find something to keep his mind elsewhere.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

“Is it hurting?” Regis asked, voice low.

“ _No,_ ” Geralt managed in a rough tone, tongue thick and dry as the hand traveled from one end to the other. The burning in his gut was like a raging inferno, reacting to lightest of touches all of the sudden.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

“Any other noticed side-effects?” Regis continued with precise expertise, a wet cloth dabbing over his wounds, stinging a bit.

“No, just fainting like a damsel in distress. Not sure if that is new though – ” Geralt said sarcastically while he rotated his head, regretting it instantly as he was met by diluted, intense eyes twinkling with a million of things he couldn’t even begin to interpret.

He really should put some distance between them, close his eyes, dart them away, but he found that he couldn’t. Like a moth is drawn to a flame. Despite the inner voice at the back of his mind screaming Yen, think of Yen, you are in a damn relationship, you shouldn’t have feelings for this utterly ridiculous, crazy, selfless and captivating vampire. He couldn’t, because Regis wasn’t like the others. He didn’t watch Geralt with the intent to scold, pity or stare at him in disappointment of the man he wasn’t and never would be. Regis smiled, watching him with sheer rapt fascination and private fondness, as if he didn’t want Geralt to be in any other possible way.

Geralt swallowed thickly, heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears.

Never had he thought that affection for another person could turn into such a wildfire that threatened to burn him alive.

He needed to say something. Anything. Break his awkward staring and speechlessness.

“Door’s unlatched,” Geralt spluttered.

_Anything but that._

Regis blinked twice, frowning at him, completely thrown off track. “I – Pardon?”

“You like your privacy. Unmolested,” _Stop._

Regis stopped his hand in midair, watching him with an amused expression, the gaze probing and intense as if he was trying to decipher Geralt.

“Well, my privacy has been molested for quite some time by now. I believe I have grown quite accustomed to bold, gallant witchers’ urge to aard through any potential nefarious walls,” Regis said wryly, washing away the green substance in the bowl before applying it to the wound again. The other hand on his skin again, spreading tingles. Geralt bit his lip. “Any particular reason for this sudden thought?”

“Uh –” Geralt said intelligently, a hysterical voice in the back of his mind slapping him to fight for his pride. “Just keeping your interests in mind?”

“ _Oh?_ A rather regular occurrence is it?” Regis said lowly, sounding amused and lowering his gaze to the chest to dig more forcefully into the wound enough to make Geralt wince. “Speaking of molested homes. I have yet to hear and see more about Cirilla, other than that you have defeated the wild hunt together, which has tormented me for quite some time now, knowing your close bond. So, what has become of the young lady?”

A sharp tug pierced his heart. Suppressed emotions bubbled up like an active volcano waiting to burst, thrashing against his thick and well-built walls.

“She has been dubbed the successor of Emhyr. Currently being taught how to take over after him,” Geralt responded, voice a bit raspy, even if he tried to appear unruffled. Just like during the farewell, even if it had been anything but that. He had to do it. For her. She wanted this. And he was going to do his best to goddamn support her.

“My my, Empress of the Nilfgaardian Empire? That is quite the task indeed. However, it still does not quite explain why there has not even been a word about her,” Regis paused meaningfully, lifting his gaze, looking concerned. “Is everything – alright between you?”

Geralt cleared his throat of all the emotions that had gathered there.

“Yeah, but she is – rather busy,” Geralt said, averting his gaze.

Regis gave him a long, considering look. “Has she told you so?”

Geralt shook his head. “No, but probably got a lot to read and learn with all that empress stuff. More important than visiting some old, grumpy witcher in the countryside. Don’t want to add up to her already full list.”

Regis hummed mysteriously, the sound of a wet rug being placed in a bowl.

“I find that rather difficult to believe,” Regis commented gently. “If I know Cirilla correctly, which I dare to self-proclaim after all those frequent, extensive tales of destiny and indispensable details from Dandelion’s memoirs, then I suspect you are her first priority. Merely waiting for your message, because alas, you are two sides of a coin – equally stubborn and unselfish. Not wanting to bother the other. But Geralt - ” A warm hand encircled Geralt’s wrist, claws gently digging into the skin to gain his attention. Geralt cocked his head to merely find those black pools of Regis staring at him with sudden, new fierceness. “You are never a bother. And those thinking as such, are evidently not in their right state of mind.”

Geralt’s heart went into his throat, his tongue feeling thick and dry.

It made him feel a bit better, even if his chest was now strangling his lungs instead, which was why he was unable to thwart the little snorting noise. Because apparently he couldn’t deal with emotional situations seriously.  

“That your polite way to tell people when they are assholes?” Geralt derided in haste.

Regis snorted, but his expression turned softer.

“Mhm. And sometimes when I feel particularly exasperated and innovative, I also tell them that they are simple-minded pillocks,” Regis deadpanned.

Geralt huffed out a laugh. He was ridiculous. “Woah Regis. Think you need to tone down that language before you get arrested for public commotion.”

Regis chuckled darkly, sharp teeth gleaming in the orange light before he refocused his gaze and hand on Geralt long-stretched gash, the professional role donned. “Hm. I reckon this wound needs a few stitches to heal properly.”

“Don’t bother. Got so many scars that another doesn’t matter. Haven’t planned on attending any beauty contests anytime soon.” Geralt sighed at the single eyebrow that arched in response from the vampire. “It will be fine. Wounds like these heal within a day for me.”

Regis seemed to ponder about it for a while, probably having an inner monologue, before he finally sighed. “Very well. I removed most of the substance, but if you so much would notice the slightest of alterations or – “

“Then I’ll find you. Witcher’s honor,” Geralt reassured. Affection buzzed in his chest, too damn grateful for this creature that listened and trusted his decisions. The hand still on his bare chest, near the wound, didn’t help either as he was trying not to let his heart pound its way out of his chest.

Sharp, piercing eyes stared up at him expectantly. Of what. He didn’t know. And he was pretty sure the distance had decreased.

Geralt’s breath stuttered, his heartbeat accelerating at the undeniable intimacy of their current arrangement.

“Feeling friskier over there?” Evelyn’s voice boomed across the room. Geralt nearly whiplashed himself. “Because, you know, we got a pretty important mission going on over here.” She added, waving obnoxiously from the platform on the other side when they spotted her.

“Depends. Have you learned to behave?” Geralt countered, flustered.

Evelyn snorted. “Don’t wish for the impossible, witcher. It will break your heart, but better get back here anyway, because Orianna wants to visit this vampire city as quickly as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fuck already. Geez.
> 
> Anyhow, see you in the summer! (I'm determined to finish this whole story during my summer break ;) Until then!)


	10. Chapter 10

He had been walking, or rather circling, near the shores of lake Seidhe Llygad for the past half hour along with Orianna and Regis, which was basically just a bunch of cliffs that were difficult to circumvent with mere feet, feeling as though he was being escorted as some sort of precious foreign princess for her pompous wedding day. At least he had the fairytale hair for it in case he was in for a big surprise.

Beauclair castle’s towering and authoritative spires loomed above them on the other side of the lake with the moon as equally intimidating, shining brightly in the sky with rays of light lancing down over the trees and plants. The shadows of the castle reflected ominously on the lake, eerily quiet considering essentially the whole cavalry with Damien had been running through the streets just a few hours ago.

It had become even more silent and tense without Joseff’s and Evelyn’s constant derisive presences, because apparently the old vampiric city was not the safest place with its crumbling state, falling apart with each century. It had been safer for them to stay put in the cemetery according to Orianna, keeping track of what was happening in Beauclair, and Geralt hadn’t really minded, just a bunch of ancient rubbles, but then the argument had quickly shifted that he was safer in the cave than out here unlike Evelyn and Joseff, which was damn hypocritical. And that was how he found himself following reluctantly along with Orianna in front of him, still with her torn marine-blue dress like it didn’t matter despite that the temperature had dropped further while they had been planning in the cemetery, alternating between merging into the shadows of the vegetation and casting an uncanny shadow without extremities in the moonlight.

Part of him grumbled and glared at Orianna for ordering him around like some sort of petulant child with no self-preservation. He was a grown man, _a witcher,_ goddammit. He was worried when there was a day something _didn’t_ try to kill him.

At least Regis walked next to him, or he would have probably drowned himself in the lake out of mercy. Even though Regis’ presence didn’t exactly calm his nerves. His insides decided to go into a turmoil whenever Regis decreased the distance between them for whatever reason, which happened a lot and he was almost sure he saw a smug, yet doleful smile directed towards him during those moments. But it quickly vanished whenever he faced Regis, as if it had never existed, just in his imagination. Which it probably was, knowing these damn confusing and incomprehensible feelings.

Geralt heaved a sigh again for the hundredth time and glanced at Orianna, a shiver of apprehension crept up his spine. Unease poked in his guts more prominently the further they walked on these cliffs. Even if there was nothing but the same old serene vegetation and firebugs circling around him, the brisk wind hitting his face. Almost as if there was some latent malevolent thing underneath his feet in hidden caverns, but his medallion kept still.

“Still haven’t told us what happened back there. Or how you even know they were after me,” Geralt grumbled petulantly, before he jumped over a ditch with a grunt. He was too old for this shit.

Orianna regarded him over her shoulder. Sort of unruffled and condescending, yet calculating and defensive.

“I rather suspect what occurred to us was similar to your experiences judging by your conditions. Nothing terribly world-shattering for a _master witcher_ who deduces all,” Orianna said wryly, fixing her gaze back on the path again, or rather the ground with less uneven rocks.

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Wouldn’t have guessed. Thought the long gash on your arm was a newly acquired tattoo,” Geralt snarked, starting to think that Orianna’s pride was possibly bigger than all of Toussaint’s population combined. He eyed her back, her whole body rigid of tension. “Still doesn’t exactly explain the details though. Like why you didn’t signal us when you got attacked. Or why you didn’t come running to us with your superior hearing and all. Couldn’t really have missed us.” 

There was an almost imperceptive flinch in Orianna’s posture, looking increasingly uncomfortable with the line of conversation.

“I certainly did not, and I can fairly say the whole population and the Duchess’ cavalry did not either with your level of discretion,” Orianna said equally dryly, heading down closer to the shores. “But I was rather rendered immovable at the time. And when I was not, I did not want them to get the chance to reach to you or escape with the invaluable information about the current events. I have been trying to locate them for _days_ without success _, master witcher_ , I would not simply let them slip away again,” She added, intoning it slowly as if it had been saved for the especially dimwitted.

Geralt stared in confusion, ignoring the insults. “Immovable?”

“The gas from their bombs,” Regis stepped in, clarifying. “It had similar effects on me for a short period of time.”

Geralt faltered, remembering the thick, grey-silver smoke and Regis, clutching his head and lashing out at everything around him in an unpredictable manner. His stomach twisted at the thought.

“For a good reason. It contained a combination with some of the fauna from our original world, which causes delirium and confusion in the right dosage, similar to narcotics as it is rather poisonous to us, even for you Regis. Rending the victim vulnerable and senseless for several minutes. So I advise you to avoid it at all costs,” Orianna said, jerking Geralt out of his thoughts.

Geralt frowned. Now that couldn’t be right.

“Minutes?” Geralt repeated, bemused. “Seemed to affect Regis less than a minute.”

Orianna arched one imperious eyebrow at him as if it was a particularly dumb question. “Well, of course, because Regis is rather different in that regard – Unique I should even say.”

Geralt snorted, a smirk playing over his mouth, turning to Regis. “Always pegged you for a special snowflake.”

Regis tsk'ed at him.

“I’m afraid that’s the pot calling the kettle black, my dear,” Regis replied, leaning a bit closer to him and throwing him a crooked, sly grin back at him. “I’d say we would make quite the pair.”

 _My dear._ Geralt swallowed hard, heart pounding so hard that he could practically feel it thudding in his throat _._

 _But they would._ Even if he didn’t want to admit it. Because it wasn’t even a reachable possibility on so many levels that he couldn’t even count.

He had never been the meek and modest type, which many didn’t really like. If there was something he wanted, he went for it, unless it would cause harm on a major fucked up scale. If he wanted to defend someone, he did it by tenfold. And if there was anyone who could bugger off, then he told them to fuck off, preferably into another world which was technically possible with Ciri’s help. Too little time to make things more complicated, especially when you didn’t know if you would live to see the next day. But there was too much at risk this time. He didn’t even know where Regis stood, always appearing unaffected and inscrutable. Not even Regis’ heart sped up whenever Geralt was close like his own, always thudding calmly and firmly. Regis had always been coy and charismatic by default, which meant that it was difficult to know if anyone meant more than just as an acquaintance or friend.  

Besides, why the hell would a 400-year-old _higher vampire_ , with knowledge the size of a library and social network the size of Toussaint, want him in _that_ way?

A grumpy, mostly unsocial, done-with-most-shit sarcastic and old witcher.

Didn’t exactly make sense.

And if there was someone he couldn’t lose, _again,_ then it was Regis, no matter what, especially not to some dumb feelings. Not to speak of that there was Yen. It just wasn’t possible.

Geralt dropped his eyes to the ground, chest aching painfully. 

Orianna watched them carefully for a long silent moment, still managing to walk straight, before shifting her cold eyes fully to Regis.

“He doesn’t know then?” Orianna asked, levelling Regis with a searching stare.

Which seemed to throw Regis off, mouth transforming into a taut line.

Geralt perked up at that, blinking confusedly at her.

“Know what?” Geralt asked, actually having no idea what she was implying. He turned and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Regis, who tried to appear innocent, if it weren’t for the raised brows and the tiny, strained apologetic smile.

Geralt clenched his jaw, stung. Regis and his tendency to keep mysterious about himself. It implied that Regis either thought it didn’t matter or that Geralt wasn’t worth the effort.

Orianna’s lips quirked up in a little, amused grin.

“I hear someone did not particularly enjoy Sunday readings in the witcher school,” Orianna said tauntingly. “Most vampires, even the higher ones, can be stunned or wounded at best by heat, fire. Regis does not possess this weakness – He is quite immune to it in fact.”

The memory of Regis taking out the blazingly hot horseshoe from the fire with his bare hand to save a woman from burning at the stake as a witch by proving her innocence, shifting it between his hands without any injuries and markings while everyone had gaped at him, calling him the devil incarnate, flickered past.

“The horseshoe. Always thought that was a bit odd,” Geralt admitted, shooting an accusing look at Regis. This time he noticed that Regis’ wounds were actually in a much better condition than Orianna’s. “So what, you are more resistant than other higher vampires? Thought you already had a unique talent, talking to animals and shit.”

Regis harrumphed delicately, looking sheepish with all the attention.

“Those are nothing but common traits in most of my brethren, not precisely unique. Besides, a higher vampire may also possess several unique talents. Rather rare, but nonetheless a possibility, in which I’m indeed also quite immune or resistant to temperatures and most materials in general besides my other unique talent – manipulation. A feature that comes quite in handy whenever probing, self-righteous witchers come hollering outside my front door and demand justice, unaffected by manipulation, merely to throw them off my tracks, of course.” Regis said teasingly, reminding him of the old days, the slight red tint in his irises shining mysteriously in the dark.

“Mhm. Kinda loses its diversion feature though when you try to save that certain captured self-righteous _witcher_ by using vampiric manipulation on other humans and leave them as evidence on the way out,“ Geralt countered wryly, grinning when Regis huffed and tried to object. His heart clenched with a sudden rush of raw affection, because it was something so damn _Regis_ about it _,_ always being there for him, damning the consequences. ”But how does that go together with Vilgefortz who melted your body with fire?”

Regis grimaced, the teasing smile fading from his face. “Technically, he melted my body with magic, which, alas, led to the ultimate discovery that I’m not as unsusceptible against such powers. But other than that, then yes, I’m more resistant than my brethren. To some moderation.”

“Only that Regis’ constitution comes with a downside. Otherwise his ancestors would have been used for solely breeding to ensure the superiority of our race,” Orianna said it easily, unperturbed.

Geralt glanced tentatively and questioningly at Regis, having a nagging feeling what it already might be.

“Addiction. Or rather, I possess genes that are more prone to develop different kinds of addictions,” Regis admitted resignedly, confirming his suspicions, but Regis quickly straightened his pose with a familiar derisive expression. “At the very least I managed to steer the course to another path. Being decapitated did prove to be quite the motivational spur to partake in a new outlook on life, especially when you had fifty years of non-reasoning thoughts to ponder it, surprisingly enough.”

 _Unlike others,_ Geralt read between the lines and sarcasm.

Which made him wonder if that was how his brother had died. Or at least the reason for his death.

“And now?” Geralt asked, eying Regis sharply.

Regis shook his head. Something fond flashed past his face, a bit of his grey hair falling over his forehead.

“A tad more tempting to revert into a rebel-rouser since the raven I admit, but still determined to fully hold onto my newfound principles, mind you. Perhaps a dash more than before even,” Regis reassured, staring intensely at him with big eyes, smiling softly.

Geralt’s throat grew tight from emotions.

“Good,” He managed to rasp out, turning his eyes on Regis. “Or you will find yourself with a personal witcher, specially trained in the kitchens of Kaer Morhen, to change and supervise a new diet for you.”

Regis hummed enthusiastically, nodding as if he was actually considering it.

“That would be a fascinating, novel experience indeed. I also believe it is the very same school who teaches the ingenious avant-garde method to boil eggs without water, is it not?” Regis said wryly, looking intrigued.

Geralt narrowed his eyes playfully. “Who told you that?”

Regis smirked before trying to feign nonchalance. “Well, if you must know, Yennefer and I may, or may not, have exchanged a couple of – _Oh –_ experiences before her departure. For educational purposes only, naturally.”

“Mhm. Could have that too someday soon. Especially wanna hear about your time at the school of bullshitting,” Geralt deadpanned, and Regis laughed heartily, which made it hard to keep his mouth natural too, before he faced another unwelcome valley that stretched down ultimately to the sharp rocks at the edge of the lake.

He barely managed to register the trail of black and red smoke in his peripheral vision before he saw two familiar figures were on the other side already. Regis’ expression inscrutable, but his eyes crinkled _._

_Cheaters._

“Come along. We are not far now,” Orianna said, looking impatient with her arms crossed, but the muscles twitched around her mouth.

Geralt glowered at them both.

“Yeah yeah, on my way. Not all of us can skip leg day,” Geralt countered drily, sliding slightly down the first steep meters before walking carefully up the hill.

Damn rocks.

“Leg day? What an absolutely intriguing and unfamiliar concept,” Regis mocked, eyes sparkling as Regis reached out a pale hand in front of him.

Geralt shrugged, clasping the soft, firm hand to be pulled up just in front of Regis, almost flush against him.

His heart sped up, striking him how close they suddenly were to each other with the breath hot on his face. Regis’ head was slightly tilted to the side, but his expression remained unreadable, while his own betrayed him by flickering to Regis’ mouth.

Geralt instantly turned away to will his damn nerves to calm down, the warmth still lingering on his skin as a reminder. “It’s a saying somewhere. Can’t remember where from though.”

“This way gentlemen,” Orianna interrupted, already descending by transforming into red mist again, but this time over some sharper rocks.

Looking down at them, the uneven ground blinked mockingly back, unwilling to change appearance. Geralt groaned. _Great._ Just when he thought it was over.

Geralt watched his steps as he descended the uneven ground, taking one rock at a time, but Regis didn’t transform this time, merely following closely behind him. Like some sort of safety net, but Regis seemed out of his element too, slightly fumbling with the steps and discreetly staring disgruntled at all the rocks whenever he thought Geralt wasn’t watching him. He had to press his lips hard against each other, about to lose it, if it wasn’t for that the reason behind him being there in the first place made his insides all warm and fuzzy. He inwardly cursed. _When the hell did he turn into such a sap?_

“As for how I know they were looking for you. Interrogation, of course,” Orianna uttered simply from the bottom on a much more even ground, staring impatiently up at them.

“Course. Any useful information then?” Geralt asked drily, grunting as he landed on the next rock, only a few more to go.

“Between the frantic begging for their lives and their dying breaths? Far less than desired,” Orianna said flatly, smiling cruelly with a bitter twist. “Merely the knowledge that they try to eliminate anyone who tampers with their plan, which they did not divulge besides that you were one of the targets and I did not exactly have the time for idle chatter considering the escalating events from your side.”

Geralt bristled, hands clenching almost into fists, knowing very well that Orianna was hinting Regis’ feral state.

Regis flinched too, his face scrunching up in shame. “Ah, well – “

“Turned out well in the end. And not like he could have controlled it in the circumstances, so not really his fault,” Geralt defended, throwing a menacing glower at Orianna.

There was a familiar aura of omnipotence, knowing things he couldn’t even fathom, as Orianna turned unmoved to Regis and lifted an eyebrow idly.

“ _Mhm,_ is that so?” Orianna offered coyly, her eyes shining and making Geralt feel like he’d been left out again. It didn’t last long as she rotated her whole body slowly to the side of the cliff, attention stolen by something else before her.

Geralt lifted his gaze to actually inspect the area that was surrounded by even more sharp rocks, no paths, the waves sounding frantic against the bottom of the cliffs behind him. Otherwise it was eerily – silent here. No birds. No firebugs. Nothing.

The cliff before Orianna was different from the rest of them with a large oval-shaped rock in the middle of it all that seemed both natural and unnatural, everything bulky and sand-colored like the rest. There were no springs to indicate an entrance, and he didn’t feel his medallion hum to indicate an illusion, but the oval that seemed a bit further back than the rest of the hill was a bit odd. 

“This it?” Geralt asked.

“Yes,” Orianna answered, without a further explanation, her shoulders hunched and stiff. “I would prefer if you did not stray from the path once inside. I’d rather not tend to every matter you may encounter since I neither have the care, nor the time.”

Regis flickered wary eyes between Orianna and the cliff, swallowing nervously. “Isn’t this the entrance to –“

“No,” Orianna cut in quickly. “This is one of the backdoors. Another entry to a different part of the city, fortunately. However, I still recommend to not cause profuse noises. We do not know where the watchers are lingering in these caves and I’d rather not be mistaken for an intruder.”

Geralt’s forehead creased. “Watchers? Who’s watching? Your elder?”

“Indeed,” Regis confirmed, face clearly pained and apprehensive.

Geralt felt his stomach lurch. Guess that solved the big mystery where his unease originated from.

“Sheesh. All about not visiting him and now we’re breaking into his home instead through the back door. It’s like begging him to become pissed off with us now,” Geralt said, folding his arms.

Orianna cocked her head to the side, with a sly twitch on her lips. “Us? No, not as long we pay our respects first. You are, however, a different story, because he will render your head from your neck before you can even open your mouth.”

“Lovely. Really reassuring,” Geralt drawled drily, staring at the large, weird oval-shaped rock that looked a lot more imposing now.

“Alas, Orianna is correct on that notion. To meet the unseen elder is to face mortal danger – I’ve said so before and never in jest, but I’ll make certain you shall never be put in that position. As in the worst case scenario, we will rely on my personal charm to appease our elder,” Regis said lightly, even if his entire posture was taut and coiled like it was waiting to spring into action.

“Dunno if that makes me feel more safe or worried,” Geralt taunted back.

Regis chuckled lowly, fangs showing. “ _Oh?_ Then I assume I’ve to make up for the time we got left, in case it is the latter.”

Geralt’s breath hitched, his mouth suddenly gone dry. His heart pounded and his stomach fluttered, staring helplessly into Regis’ black, beady eyes.

“Good thing the need will almost certainly never arrive,” Orianna interjected wryly, as if nothing was happening around her, or not caring. “These parts are usually unattended, mainly because he does not take kindly to foreign and unannounced guests, even his watchers, which are rendered to shreds before they can even reach this part in most cases. There are, nonetheless, not merely the elder and watchers that wander the halls of our city. Hence, my point stands to not cause excessive noises or off-trail adventures,” She finished forebodingly, her gaze turning sharp at him. “Now, step aside.”

Geralt and Regis stepped back, leaving Orianna in the front.

Orianna cast intense, hazel eyes back at the side of the cliff, her mouth pressed into a grimly determined line and feet braced firmly on the ground, drawing up a rock in similar shape and color but with a blood-red symbol of a hand etched onto the surface. Geralt had seen it before, back in Tesham Mutna within those cages and murky corridors, one of the tribes.

She pressed the stone to the oval-sized boulder, which was all the warning he got before the entire ground began to rumble, magic rippling through the air enough to make his medallion vibrate frantically against his chest

“What the – “ Geralt began in alarm, when the slightly oval-shaped boulder in the further back suddenly lifted gradually in front of his eyes, leaving an equally sized hole in the middle of the cliff. Orianna stepped through the gate without even waiting for them, picking up an old torch on one of the sides that was still on fire.

Someone had been here recently.

Geralt stared suspiciously at Orianna, wondering how often she actually visited this place and what for.

He sucked in a deep breath, dropped his arms and stepped into the cave with Regis right on his heels. His skin prickled in apprehension, not really knowing if it was merely his imagination or something else.

As he passed through the first section of the entrance, the flutter of trepidation settled even more permanently and prominent in his guts, especially when the door behind them closed shut. Every step increased the uncomfortable sensation and the hairs at the back of his neck almost crept up as if a ghostly hand stroked his back. The hollow sounds and the slight cold breeze from the dark hole in front of Orianna whistled in his ears, almost looming menacingly over him, as a black tunnel with no end, certainly not happy endings.

They seemed to be in a corridor of some sort, stalagmites cropping up on the ground and down the ceilings. At least the ceiling was high, so they didn’t need to crouch and evade all the stalagmites. Walls alternated between the regular sand-colored cliffs he was used to in Toussaint, and flat structures that were layered and paved with what appeared like limestone, but much smoother and uniform in color, as if it was a stone from another world.

“Do you know what to expect?” Geralt asked Regis, breaking the unnerving silence.

“Hm,” Regis looked thoughtful, eyes downcast and gripping the satchel more tightly before looking up again as if he had cracked a code. “Vampiric buildings?”

Geralt huffed, feeling the tension slip away. “Funny.”

They descended the stairs which were accompanied by another pair of stairs whenever they walked further down the corridor. A few pillars with flat textures decorated the corridor every fifth meter, finely sculpted, to create delicately arched ceilings above them. Geralt kept his eyes peeled on the pillars, recognizing a few of the symbols on them at times. Many were the same as in Tesham Mutna, the various tribes he really didn’t remember the names of, because hell, they were pretty weird. Not really mnemonics material. 

That was until two large pillars perfectly aligned on each side with something that looked similar to a human was painted on both of them with merely a skirt of sorts, but with four wings protruding from the back. Guess that was a vampire, pretty important one at that to be painted on the damn pillars. But the others didn’t give any sort of clue about that, being awfully quiet and unruffled as they always became whenever it was about vampire stuff.

Geralt stepped closer to one of the pillars, squinting at it, finding some strange inscriptions on stone murals. Words lined both above and underneath the creature, which were written in a script he didn’t recognize. No doubt the ancient, original language of the vampires.  

“Who’s this?” Geralt asked.

“That, with all due respect included, is our unseen elder, _the denizen_ , in this land,” Regis explained in short, sounding almost right behind him.

Geralt hummed, picking the pace up after Orianna again when the light from the torch strayed too far to distinguish anything on the pillars. “Gotta feel pretty self-important to paint himself everywhere.”

Orianna twisted gracefully at that, her pale, baleful eyes buried into him. The intensity almost made Geralt want to reach for his sword.

“It is – _was_ the way of our original world. Each city had one equivalent to a ruler, several of them, protectors of the city, unseen elders to lead the people in trying times and extreme conditions, but they were more worshipped alike gods,” Orianna said emotionlessly, as if straight from a textbook, shifting back to the path. “Quite the traditionalist our unseen elder, since he still holds to these values, protecting what is left that is. Pointless according to most of us with the portal slammed shut probably for eternity and the watchers to signal us other keepers in case of intruders.”

She sounded bitter, even if she tried to hide it. And Geralt couldn’t help but feel apprehensive, getting all this information. It wasn’t exactly every day one got a history lesson of vampiric culture, voluntarily, there had to be a catch somewhere.

“Must be quite powerful then,” Geralt said briefly, staring suspiciously at her.

Orianna dragged an unaffected side-glance at him, chuckling darkly. “That’s a vast understatement. Those who managed to survive past a millennium were usually those with very unique abilities they had managed to hone in order to survive our rather hostile world at times.”

Geralt squinted his eyes. “So what’s the real reason he’s staying down there then? Being that powerful, having keepers around already and all.”

Regis hummed, stroking his chin. “To stay with the ‘gate’ analogy, no door is ever completely impermeable. Smells come through, for instance. And when the wind rises, some dust might be blown through the cracks. A palpable trace of things on the other side,” He hypothesized solemnly, sighing almost mutely in a sad, hopeless sort of way. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

To long for a place that much, Geralt couldn’t really understand it. But he guessed everyone was trying to hold onto something to get by in life, an illusion, hope, a place, even if it meant that they missed other opportunities because of it.

 _Much like he had been holding onto Yen,_ he thought with a bitter taste in his mouth.

As they passed another pillar, there was another painting with an unfamiliar creature on it. The head of a horse with sharp fangs and straight horns, the throat of a lizard, a curved spike on the shoulder, front legs in the shape of a lion, hind legs like a horse again, massive batwings and a living serpent with its own fangs as a tail.

Geralt’s forehead creased in confusion.

There had been nothing like this in his books at Kaer Morhen.

“Fought a lot of things, but never seen anything like this,” Geralt said, bemused, stopping in his tracks.

Regis joined him at the pillar, serious. “Quite for the better, I’m sure. Even if challenges are the very spice of life, then this creature, a relic from our world – a Chimera, was – undeniably still _is_ in our world – both feared and worshipped from afar for their sheer immense power. The sole definition and symbol of power in our culture in fact. Its’ build constituting of different combinations from several creatures and leading to the genes to balance each other to complement what the other genes could not offer, and thus, most methods were fruitless against it. However, they were sentient creatures and most could be reasoned with.”

“So that’s what you meant earlier with genes compensating for the other’s weaknesses?” Geralt ventured.

Regis nodded gravely. “Which was the precise reason what made it so perilous. Even to higher vampires. Seems like these perpetrators strived for similar results.”

As they continued down the long, murky corridor, the wind picked up a pace, the air feeling more damp and cold against his skin. He thought he could even hear the trickling of water somewhere deeper down in the corridor.

“We are here,” Orianna said ominously, touching something on both sides of the corridor with her torch.

Instantly a trail of fire on both sides raged and roamed rapidly in straight lines for a couple of meters, flaring and reflecting orange hues on the inside of the cave’s inner walls. It wasn’t really needed as there were some sort of plants in the ceilings and all over the ground that seemed more like baubles with dark sticks, emitting a faint blue light that together lightened up the entire view before him with the help of rivers and water leaking from the ceilings to create waterfalls, which reflected even further the faint blue light, contributing to the eerie and enigmatic atmosphere.

Geralt’s eyes widened.

Several buildings stretched wide across in the gigantic cavern, few untouched by time and the Conjunction of the Spheres, shattered walls and crumbled buildings were littered across the cave, some even placed on the ceiling. Everything almost completely silent besides the rivers that streamed in the city’s aqueducts and the slight breeze that whistled hollowly in his ears. This was probably the gloomiest, deserted and dead ruins he had ever seen.

Some of the buildings were rustic in their architecture, mainly constituting of stone bricks to shape rectangular and square houses with flat roofs like Tesham Mutna, but decorated with various unfamiliar metals, symbols and ornamentations. Other buildings, most of them, especially in the further back that seemed to be elevated from the rest of the city with a building that looked similar to a temple, had more smooth constructions and arched ceilings, the cracks trailing on the monochrome parquet. Statues of massive creatures with wings, similar to Dettlaff’s bestial form, only more slender in their builds, and chimeras, newly acquired knowledge points, were located all over the city.

The staircase down to the city seemed new, even if it was in the same artistic style, it was smoother with fewer cracks as the other buildings, as if it had been constructed far later. Maybe that wasn’t so odd, because their city had somehow landed inconveniently underneath the ground in a goddamn hill. Somehow they must have tried to dig themselves out, to see if there was something else than just rocks.

Geralt shivered, his stomach dropping at the thought, being buried alive. Not knowing how far they were under the ground or what had even happened, if they would ever see the surface again. On top of that higher vampires lived for a very long time, being buried alive for several millenniums didn’t really sit right with him.

“I trust you know the precise location of the sought armor and weapons?” Regis asked breathlessly beside him, just as wide-eyed.

“Naturally. They are in the upper part of the city, where the unseen elders and those of the higher rankings were located, in the chambers,” Orianna admitted conceitedly, walking down the stairs impatiently with the flame of the torch dancing unnervingly on the buildings near the staircase.

Air stagnant and damp, Geralt took a few steps down to follow Orianna to some sort of main square with a large fountain in the middle, which seemed to still work, water trickling down. It was decorated with equally massive statues, shifting from feminine to more masculine, but with curving horns and gigantic bat-like wings. Buildings to the sides were in less pristine conditions, a lot of stalagmites and large boulders had seemed to shatter the structures, from the ceilings from the looks of it when he craned his head to look upwards to spot a few bits missing. The windows were fully opened, empty and dark. Cracked flagstones spread beneath her feet, debris crunching under his feet as he walked on them.

Orianna walked confidently across the streets, immediately turning to a path that went more uphill towards the temple-like architecture, ignoring everything else. Her pale features and long red hair almost glowed in the dark, her gaze even more piercing, as if her eyes were whiter.

“How about that, despite all your species’ bragging of your superiority, you sure don’t seem dissimilar to humans. Hierarchal systems, structures and all,” Geralt snided without heat, noticing the smoother facades and the growing number of symbols on the buildings’ walls, various circles in numerous hues of red and orange, faded.

Orianna smiled indulgently at him, without her eyes following.

“Ethnocentrism plagues every species or culture, witcher, and most likely will continue doing so. True, we had hierarchal systems, the more powerful and unique abilities, the more resources as well as responsibilities, but never so much to affect the less fortunate to the negative,” Orianna said, lips slightly pursed. “It was an unsympathetic world. There was a need for structure and strategy to be able to create an empire.”

Geralt huffed disbelievingly, but said nothing. He couldn’t really argue against it since he didn’t really know much about their world.

“Yet, I cannot help but notice that most of the constructions appear to be in the upper part of the city, but I sincerely doubt most were elders in our world,“ Regis pointed out, observing everything with great enthusiasm and occasionally bringing up a notebook from his satchel to sketch something in it.

Orianna smirked bitterly. “That is because the affected area during the Conjunction of The Spheres happened to mostly the upper part of Marcuthe. I’ve still not quite decided if it was a blessing or tragedy that most of our elders were hauled along to this new even more hostile world, leaving behind the feebler ranks to fend mostly for themselves.”

A red, distant glow suddenly flickered in the corner of his eyes.

Geralt whisked his head around, instantly locking onto a creature that seemed to look similar to a Fleder, but – glowing in a jarring, red hue. It bypassed a few other passages in the cave further away, the light shimmering and disappearing momentarily as it went further into those passages.

“Shit. Seems like something is there,” Geralt whispered lowly.

Orianna lifted her head indolently, seeming to listen keenly in the still, damp air for a mere moment before returning to the path again.

“Auctrenes - Unevolved Fleders, emitting a faint glow alike in our world with a distant, crimson sun,” Orianna said dismissively.

“Shouldn’t you be worried?” Geralt said, glancing at Regis who seemed just as perplexed and alert as him.

Orianna stopped and turned her merciless gaze and torch over him, eyes crinkling at the edges into a half-smile. “Should I?”

Geralt quirked one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Won’t it attack us, signal your elder or something?”

For a moment, the corner of her mouth lifted to reveal an incisor, as if amused, before returning to the path. “No, not as long Regis and I are near you. They may, however, report to the unseen. Therefore, I suggest we not linger here for long.”

He didn’t exactly find that comforting, but vampires had weird ways to comfort in general. Guess that’s what happened when not much could kill them. No need to feel fear. Although, Regis didn’t seem calmer either, keeping his eyes on something in the distance and closing the distance between them even further.

Eventually they reached the top of the upper part of the city, finding himself surveying a large ruined temple with a garden that might have been pompous a thousand years ago. It had even more massive statues, but more distinguished, cracks slithering on the forms. Meticulously carved, the folds on the few clothes they wore seemed almost lifelike with them pretending to flutter in the wind, almost glowing in the faint blue light. One of them was definitely the unseen elder he had seen in the corridor, while the others were more unfamiliar, all from fierce-looking women with red jewels as eyes and full armors to half-naked, authoritative men with various emblems and weapons in their hands pointed at them as they strolled in the middle of the dead garden, surrounded by strange withered plants in almost worshipping poses. Dust and dirt covered the top of the statues’ lithe bodies.

“Absolutely remarkable,” Regis mumbled in awe, looking like a child in a toyshop, almost seeming to want to touch everything. “The sheer technique, not to speak of the age of these that is implied by the facade.”

Geralt grinned, that was until his attention was taken by a pair of parted, grand double-gates of brass-golden metal on rusty hinges with circles lined up together, forming nine circles in total, three larger ones lined in the middle, while the others were smaller to the sides. And above them, split in half, the two gates together formed a similar symbol on Regis’ gloves. A serpent eating its own tail in a circle, while there was a triangle in the middle and one circle decorating each side of the triangle.

“Always wondered what that symbol means. Keep stumbling upon it whenever there is something vampire-related, like your gloves,” Geralt waved upwards.

Regis walked to stand beside him, eyes sparkling in recognition.

“Not terribly surprising, I’d say, since it is a rather representative symbol for our species. So well-observed,” Regis said, lifting a hand to point at the different parts of the symbols. “The outer circle is Ouroboros, a symbol of immortality. The circles can be interpreted in various ways, however, in this particular context is symbolizes the three tribes – Gharasham, Tdet, and Ammurun. While the triangle symbolized the empire, in which the three tribes create a whole society, structure, order.”

“Huh,” Geralt commented intelligently. “Quite a lot of culture and symbols despite having no gods.”

“Just another undeniable proof that your species and mine are quite alike – Similar yet different,” Regis said simply.

They entered the building, the interior was equally grand with the ceilings painted in faded colors, depicting several different symbols of circles and chimeras, smaller human-like creatures he assumed were the vampire population and the bigger human-like creatures in which some were the statues in the garden.

Gilded pillars and cracked windows in various colors ornamented the sides of the chamber, which cast colorful shadows upon the room, dancing on the remaining impeccable floor. It appeared to be more of an antechamber with all the different doors to other rooms, the doors that were left that was, many of the walls were cracked and in shambles.

Orianna immediately strolled quickly to one of the rooms to the right, her entire face lightening up when she glanced through the open door, placing the torch on the floor.

“My my,” Orianna said, a pleased little smirk spread slowly on her face. “It appears we may have been more fortunate than I previously reckoned. Wait here,” She continued, her voice a satisfied rumble as she strode straight into the room, rummaging through various artifacts judging by the sound of clashing metal.

“Dunno if I like her alone in there. Could be a devious plan for all we know,” Geralt said, mostly in derision.

“Hm. I’ve to agree on that one. Especially since she hasn’t changed in the slightest, not by a single crease since our first encounter,” Regis admitted, a bit sardonic, without moving.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Regis shrugged slightly. “Depends I suppose, leaning mostly towards the not so good. But I fear we do not have another choice since we are, alas, quite dependant on her. She is the one who knows this place far better than ourselves after all.”

“Great. Love to have my fate in such capable hands,” Geralt chided.

“My, I feel rather spectacularly charmed by such tremendous acknowledgment on my otherwise humble faculties,” Regis grinned at him.

Geralt rolled his eyes. He could vaguely distinguish the shapes of armor and weapons with the similar style he had found in Tesham Mutna, only that these were plain red, metal in layers with several lines and details on them. It didn’t take long until Orianna was back, standing arrogantly and oddly satisfied in front of them for someone with nothing in their hands besides a torch she had picked up again, just as empty-handed as when they had gotten here.

“Well then, time we were on our way,” Orianna said simply, turning towards the grand gate.

Geralt eyed her skeptically, halting her by putting up an arm in the air.

“Thought you said we were fetching armor and weapons. So far I only see you, unless this is your type of joke – In that case. Funny, especially liked the part where you presented yourself as a weapon,” Geralt said with deep, aching sarcasm.

Orianna half-lidded her eyes menacingly, tsk’ing several times at him. “Not everything worthwhile is visible right under your nose, witcher.”

“Then I suppose the meticulously carved box suddenly protruding from your left pocket has absolutely nothing to do with everything?” Regis questioned wryly, pointing towards the green-squared box with detailed golden trees in the pocket of her dress. Geralt dragged his gaze down to notice it too. A bit like the phylactery.

Orianna grinned lop-sided, smug and pleased. “It was a gift from an old friend of mine, elven mage in fact, which I received many years ago, possessing a rather practical ability to contain a whole room of artifacts in the larger sorts. A rather nifty handbag, I would say, which currently is withholding the armor and weapons.”

Geralt sighed heavily, not sure if it was even worth it to check up if that was truly the case or just lies. Orianna and her secrets. _Vampires and their games of wit._ But as Regis said, they were quite dependant on her. Not like they had many other options but to trust her. They would be fucked either case. He just hoped he would get less fucked with this option.

“Great. As much as I love elven stories and artifacts, let’s get out of here if we are done,” Geralt said flatly, the unease in the place starting to seep into him.

Orianna’s eyes were glinting in the darkness, looking coyly at him. “For once, witcher, we agree.”

They began walking back through the temple and the garden with the statues, heading towards the main square again when Geralt felt the trepidation in his guts increasing. And he didn’t know if he imagined it, but some shadows darted in the corner of his eyes, reappearing and disappearing all at once.

Geralt rotated his head, trying to discern the shadows from the rest of the eerie cave and the objects within it.

“What is it?” Regis asked, frowning at him.

Geralt could see the outlines of figures dashing towards them further away in the city, slightly paler shapes against the blackness of the cave, near the entrance they had come from. Only for mere seconds until they disappeared from his view again.

“The watchers?” Geralt asked, his pupils constricting in the dark.

“No – It is different, as if – “ Orianna stilled abruptly, narrowing her eyes at something in the distance, before she uncharacteristically dropped the torch, swiveled her entire body around in his direction and lunged at him.

“Move!” She shouted, grabbing Geralt by the wrist and yanking him towards the opposite direction.

“What the hell – “ Geralt began, stumbling to keep up, bewildered.

A second later, there was a sudden flash of movement in the air before it exploded on the cracked flagstones they had just stood upon, a familiar thick mist and splinters chasing after them, everything becoming grey-white behind them and someone bellowing in the distance; “Capture them!”

Orianna peered over her shoulder, appearing ambivalent between heading back or continue running, when even Geralt heard another bomb hurling towards them in the air. She narrowed her eyes further and spoke harshly in a foreign language.

Orianna ushered him towards a narrow street, baring fangs and hissing towards the advancing figures that dashed on the roofs, which were no doubt the shepherds she had talked about before. He didn’t care about that though, because his heart leaped instantly into his throat, body going cold, all his thoughts directing towards Regis – _Where is he. Is he safe. Shit. What if -_

He detangled himself from Orianna’s grip, whisking his head around feverishly, on his way to head back. Only to find Regis rushing behind them, meeting his searching eyes and nodding, as if he could read his mind.

Geralt let out a massive breath of relief.

That was until Orianna made the sharpest left and Geralt tried his best to keep up, his breath dragged out of him at all these new turns. He checked over his shoulder again, not really seeing anyone besides Regis with the old buildings towering at the sides of the narrow street, but the figures were getting closer, he could hear them closing in even if they tried their best to lose their pursuers in the alleys and Orianna leading them to gods know where. Bombs exploded frantically after them and the splinters of white substance scattered nearby in the air, the vibrations spreading on the ground underneath their feet. 

“How did they even – “ Geralt stopped, interrupted by a loud crack above their heads and they all stopped in their tracks.

For a mere moment, he couldn’t breathe or move, his mind whirling and dread spreading like a wildfire at the sight of one of the bigger stalagmites in the ceiling breaking apart, and that was not the only thing that had begun to crack in the ceiling. The cracks were spreading outwards from the stalagmite, slithering on the ceiling in a haste. Smaller stones were already falling down on the city.

“Shit, they’ll bring the entire place down!” Geralt shouted in alarm.

“We need to get out of here, now!” Regis bellowed at Orianna, pushing Geralt forward.

“This way!” Orianna ordered firmly, making another sharp turn to the right, the torn shreds on her dress fluttering behind her.

Geralt nearly tripped on the stairs that greeted him at the turn, which lead up to some other passageway which wasn’t the one they had come from. His heartbeat loud in his ears, blood pounding and thrumming from the adrenaline. An enraged and foreboding roar sounded in the distance, coming almost from inside the passageway they were heading towards.

A familiar sound whistled in the air and Geralt raised his gaze upwards to see an arrow heading towards them, aimed at Orianna.

“Look out!” Geralt warned, throwing himself at Orianna to push her out of the way, afraid to use Quen in case it would make the arrow bounce. The arrow missed them both by the hair, ricocheting slightly on the solid ground and the same green coating as in Beauclair dripping on the debris. 

Orianna looked stunned at him and that was when he realized that she could have merely misted away to avoid the arrow, and she had probably already discovered it, but his first instincts had been to protect.

Inwardly cursing, he felt immediately more stupid, backing away and hoping the contemplative, shrewd look in Orianna’s eyes was a good thing.

Then the entire cave began to shake forebodingly, more debris and grits raining down on them from above. Whisking his head up, he saw one after the other gigantic boulder around the stalagmite in the ceiling dropping briskly down on the middle of the city, shattering buildings into rubbles as it was nothing.

 _Shit._ They would be buried here if this continued.

Orianna merely stared vehemently in silence at it all, her fingers straightening into taut lines.

“These -“ Orianna said breathlessly, breathe frantic as her eyes turned completely white, a perilous aura whipping around her like a halo. Her right shoulder abruptly cracked, whisking backward, followed by the other, her entire spine shifting and protruding against her skin until the fetlocks pierced the layer of skin to create pointed spikes along her back, which shredded the remaining torn dress into actual scraps. The fingers extended into long and lethal claws while bones sprouted from her shoulder blades and head, shaping four pairs of slender wings and horns curving around her fire-colored hair that grew longer. Teeth elongated into pikes until they covered her entire mouth, her body elongating into a gauntly, slender and tall humanoid.

“INSOLENT, INCONSEQUENTIAL DEGENERATES,“ She thundered ominously, voice pitched in a much lower and darker tone that bounced off the walls of the cave, hollow eyes with single black stripes in the middle staring fixedly at the figures in the distance.

It didn’t take long until an almost identical, massive form as one of the statues in the garden was in front of him, all but mere pale, silky skin and horrifically lean body, bouncing off the ground in one single powerful strike with her four wings to create an almost storm after her. Regis gripped him by the arms, and he probably would have sailed into the air on the spot if it hadn’t been for Regis’ mere strength that clamped hard onto his armor.

Orianna lunged towards the figures, going after one after the other without managing to catch them, sonic screeches almost deafening him despite the distance.

“Orianna! Don’t have time for that!” Geralt hollered at her as their distance increased between them, at the same moment as she managed to catch one of the many figures and tore it into two equal bits with her mere elongated claw-hands, painting a building in blood red.

“Go. Follow the stairs and the tunnel. It will lead to the unseen,” A cold and dark voice boomed loudly in the entire cave, ordering them without even looking at them, Orianna.

Which he didn’t really know if it was a better alternative than staying here.

He inwardly cursed, eying Orianna as she danced around a few of the figures that tried to hit her and the parts of the giant stalagmite that had begun to descend, hitting some of the buildings in front of them and creating an airwave of debris as well as a new ominous shake to the cave. 

“We need to continue!” Regis yelled over the ringing noise in front of them, yanking Geralt upwards the stairs to the new passageway.

“What about Orianna?!” Geralt shouted back, unable to free himself from the steel grip on his wrist.

“To change the mind of that woman would be akin to try to alter the location of a mountain, but I shall personally bring her back to her senses once I know you are safe.” Regis said, determined, without even looking back.

Geralt growled. “Might be too late then. Can’t just – “

From nearly above them, an enormous rock quickly hurled down, hitting the stairs in front of them. The passageway crumbled into bits along with it.

Suddenly, even more cracks sounded, but this time from beneath them. Geralt cast his gaze down, seeing the staircase crumbling and cracks wander energetically around his feet.

In one second, Regis’ body and bones twisted, clothes and satchel merging into his body, and everything growing larger and darker even more rapidly than in Beauclair. The same bat-like creature stood in front of him, the dark, short fur on his body and the grey mane glistening enigmatically in the faint, blue light of the cave, but this time the form was way smaller than the one he had seen before and the eyes were dark-red eyes instead of glowing in a murderous crimson hue. These eyes were contemplative and human-like, and nearing him.

He didn’t get time to react before Regis lunged at him with an open maw full of sharp fangs and clenched his fangs on the back of his armor in one firm bite, without piercing his skin, lifting up the massive wings in the air and trashed them down towards the ground to take them both up into the air almost effortlessly. At the sudden and dizzying climb in altitude, Geralt’s stomach dropped, the ground becoming a lot smaller in a millisecond and seeing the staircase behind them crumbling into pieces.

Soaring quickly and soundlessly through the air with Regis dodging boulders and debris falling from the ceiling, they eventually reached Orianna who hissed in menacing tones at the figures dashing around the city and her. Regis hissed in equal tones at Orianna, or what he managed with Geralt basically in his mouth, which grabbed her attention instantaneously and she eyed the passageway that had collapsed.

Orianna almost imperceptively constricted her eerie white eyes, seeming a lot more alert on everything around her and whirling around towards another location with Regis right after her. Lifting his gaze to follow their direction, Geralt could distinguish another hole in the wall without a staircase this time, which was until another large boulder crashed into the wall, crumbling some of the cave’s inner wall and blocking the entire way.

But from somewhere high above them, Geralt could see some light seeping through a crack that grew larger with each second.

“Up there!” Geralt shouted, making them all stare up at the ceiling.

The abrupt change in direction caused Geralt’s vision to go wobbly for a moment, quickly adapting again to see the new hole becoming increasingly smaller instead as new crumbling rocks tried to fill it. _Shit._

Orianna and Regis increased their speed towards the opening, wings thrashing in the air as they evaded and almost danced gracefully past several stalagmites and boulders now raining harshly down from above.

“There is probably not enough time for us all, even in our other forms,” Orianna’s booming voice suddenly said gravely, turning her head towards Regis.

Geralt looked up from his cramped position to see Orianna and Regis exchange some sort of understanding glances, before Orianna turned her terrifying and gauntly head with a sharp row of fangs towards him. The sole black stripes, intent and serious, directed at him.

“We will find another way if we do not manage in time,” Orianna just said, without explaining.

Cold washed over him, gut lurching in almost panic.

“What are you – “ Geralt only managed to rasp out before Regis abruptly whisked his head back enough to almost give him a whiplash and flung him into the air in such a speed that it felt he had been hurled by a thousand Aards at the same time. He had a split-second experience of being flung in the air, barely managed to register when Orianna and Regis both transformed into mists with the almost instantly changing views, before he bypassed the opening in the ceiling. He hit the surface ground hard with a grunt, knocking the wind from his lungs, accompanied with a painful sensation of split bone. The hole slammed shut behind him the same instant he hit the surface above.

“Ugh. Fuck,” Geralt grunted, feeling the dirt he had become accustomed to during the years on the path beneath him.

A sharp flash of panic washed over him, feeling the blood drain from his face after gathering what had just happened even if his mind was still whirling. He couldn’t see Regis anywhere.

Oh fuck.

_Fuck. Shit. No._

_No, no._

He instantly pushed himself off the ground in one painful breath, grabbing whatever debris and smaller boulder he could with his hands.

“Regis! REGIS!” Geralt shouted, trying to dig out the crack again in the rubble. But to no avail, the crack refused to open again, one boulder being replaced by a new one once he lifted one out. Something began to sting in his eyes, emotions gripping him until he almost swayed, barely knowing what to do with himself besides continue to remove every damn rock. Every last one of them.

He fought against the urge to become a thrashing, frantic wreck when a certain massive boulder refused to budge. He slammed his entire body on it, the pain shooting in intense, sharp tugs, but he was not going to lose him again. _Goddammit._

A twig snapped behind him.

“Regis?” Geralt stopped, trying to turn around, the panic waning a bit.

“Well, well, hello darling,” A way too familiar and pleased voice cut through the air, deep and oily, sending unpleasant shivers along his spine. “I’ve been searching for you.”

All he saw were some manically green eyes before it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh, what a cliffhanger! Good thing I'm back and plan to stay, eey? *Takes all my stuff and runs*


	11. Chapter 11

He awoke with a jerk, groaning at the splitting and pounding headache. Everything hurt, muscles aching in every goddamn place, and his head felt like it could explode any minute, especially on his right side.

 _What the fuck had happened_.

Geralt lifted his eyes from the uneven ground, trying to look around to figure out where the hell he was, but he could barely see anything. Everything was dancing in front of him, blurred. It was dark, cold and the texture underneath was rough even against his armor.

He found himself leaning against a wall, legs tucked under him and arms pulled cruelly against his back. There were chains around his wrists, mixed with rope judging by some raw straws prickling against his hands, the metal biting coldly into his skin and stretching his shoulders into an awkward position. He experimentally yanked on the chains, without them bulging even an inch. They were too thick and sturdy. There was no way he would manage to break them.

Sweeping his eyes over the place when the throbbing in his head wasn’t trying to kill him, he noticed long, tall metal bars a few meters in front of him, with similar rooms outside of it, but the rest of the walls seemed to be part of some sort of cave, bulky and rough. At least he still had his armor, but he couldn’t feel any extra weight on his back. They must have taken his swords.

Geralt cursed.

He was in a cell. _Again._

A glimmer of light entered his peripheral vision, undulating against the walls of the murky place and highlighting the other cells and the interiors of them. Mostly empty, but with specks of dried blood and old, brittle bones scattered on the floor. It reminded him a bit too much of Tesham Mutna. Even the architecture was the same.

Geralt’s body went taut when a familiar figure walked in front of his cell.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to delight us with their presence,” Drawled a terribly familiar voice in a leer. The same man from the alley with auburn hair walked in front of the cage along with two other, also familiar figures veiled under dark hoods and mantles. Slim-cut robes in a dark, navy blue cascaded down his lithe body as he lounged there and smirked, maniacal, green eyes gleaming with wicked glee. “You've had quite the beauty sleep, darling.”

Fury suffused all over him, everything coming back to him. The caves. The shepherds chasing them. _Regis and Orianna never getting out from the opening._

If it wasn’t for these damn chains and bars, he would have punched him to death with his bare hands through the metal bars.

He didn’t even know what had happened to Regis and Orianna. If they were even still alive. The last thing he had seen was when they had transformed into their incorporeal shells, but that didn’t mean they had actually managed to get out alive or if they were buried alive underneath a goddamn hill.

All because of these – _bastards._

“What can I say, old age has proven to be quite the hazard for my complexion,” Geralt grit out through clenched teeth.

“I wouldn’t say that, if anything, it appears you have matured like a fine wine,” The man said sickly sweet, eyes hungry and lowered, leering over his bound body as if waiting to unwrap a present.

Geralt’s stomach lurched, almost nauseous.

“Guessing this isn’t a social call though,” Geralt said coolly, suppressing the snarl in the back of his throat that begged to lash out.

The man chuckled lowly, irises turning pale with an unsettling gleam.

“Sadly no, it appears you have aggravated my boss quite immensely, slowing down the progress of – well, everything honestly. So much in fact that he wishes a private word with you,” His expression turned wretched, lips puckered. “Sadly, that postpones our own private, _intimate moment_ , but then again, everything worthwhile is worth the wait. Especially when I will have _all of you_ for _myself_ afterwards,” He crooned sickeningly, his face instantly altering to something ugly and menacing as he turned towards the figures beside him. “ _Grab him_.”

The other figures unlocked the door to his cell with a loud clunk, walking hurriedly towards him and abruptly grabbing him by the shoulders and arms. He was heaved upright in a mere second, the sheer force almost enough to throw him across the room if they hadn’t grasped his arms in a tight hold.

“Move it,” One of them hissed when he didn’t move, shoving him harshly along.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, but reluctantly walked to the door and was almost hurled outside the cell.

“Hey now, careful. Don’t damage the goods, because we need this one alive and I rather fancy those deliciously _gorgeous_ bits,” The auburn-haired man said darkly. “You wouldn’t want to be one the boss’ naughty list. Believe me.”

“Thanks for showing such compassion towards your prisoners,” Geralt snarked coldly.

The man spread a grin that showed too many teeth.

“Only for you. Quite literally,” The man said, a cold, unremorseful expression plastered on his face. “Which is rather a shame, truly, I’m quite hospitable when one finally gets to know me on a more _personal_ level.”

Guess there was a reason why he only found a few bones and specks of blood in the cages, but no bodies.

Hot and wild anger swirled inside of him, gritting his teeth. One of those cages must have contained Joseff and Evelyn’s parents.

The figures pushed him forward, guiding him through the corridor with the auburn-haired man in the front holding a torch, which cast eerie shadows on the walls.

Geralt discreetly tried to map and survey the corridor.

No exits besides the one they were going through. No windows. Nothing to grab besides the debris on the floor.

They pushed and herded him through the corridor, ushering him along a few twists and turns in the long, murky passageway, the temperature only shifting when they bypassed some of the other torches that hung on the walls. The warm air rolled over him like a soft, distant caress.

Eventually they reached a pair of stairs, leading upwards. A beam of light seeped down on the stairs from the top, a warm, similar light to the torch in front of him.

The only thing that blocked the way was the auburn-haired man.

Geralt steeled himself and sharpened his eyes, waiting for the right moment.

The figures walked silently beside him and steered him upwards, their grips only slackening over his arms whenever they climbed up a new step.

He took a deep breath.

Twisting sharply to the side when they were about to climb a new step, he ripped himself out of both their grasps, knocking one down the stairs with it and sweeping one of his legs on the other’s legs, making the figure lose their balance and fall backward onto the concrete steps. He activated Aard with his hands behind his back, shoving the figures behind him a few extra meters down the stairs, hopefully knocking them unconscious. The man in front of him turned around and Geralt immediately lunged forward, using all his strength to throw himself and the man into the wall. But unlike the others, this man was stronger and well-prepared, instantly whirling around in an inhuman speed and Geralt almost crashed into the wall when one strong, unforgivable hand clamped down on his upper arm and twisted it brutally, almost dislocating it, stopping him in his tracks.

Geralt flinched at the pain.

“Ah, aah, aahh,” The man chided near his ear, dangerously sharp nails digging into his skin. ”I do adore your passion, _Geralt_ , I do. Especially when you see the passion break down piece by piece until the last flicker of hope dies on the surface of their eyes, leaving nothing but a hollow shell for a puppeteer to steer, but it’s quite frankly not the time and you’re trying on my already thin patience.”

Geralt glared at him, but stayed still.

“Good. _Very good,_ ” The man purred nastily, his mouth caressing his cheek, before his voice darkened and snarled to the grunting and moaning figures down the stairs. “You two, up. This isn’t a vacation resort.”

The auburn-haired man kept his grip firm around Geralt’s arm, guiding them himself towards the exit of the corridor with the other figures right behind.

Geralt was blinded by all the new sources of light, unused to the intensity.

His eyes refocused, glancing around his new surroundings. The room wasn’t much different from the cells with the bulky and monochrome walls, suggesting a dungeon of some sorts. The air was still damp and cold against his skin. There was no furniture, rather vacant, just several types of cages, benches that reminded him of the old witcher trial of the grasses’ benches with all the straps, and alchemist tables. Fire flickered from wrought iron sconces that lined the walls. Several different doors in the walls.

He was steered left, leading him into an even larger and warmer room. His feet sank directly into a dense, luxurious carpet in a red color, eying the luxurious furniture that decorated the room. A fire danced welcomingly in a massive, hefty hearth, and comfortable chairs and detailed tables were positioned across the entire room. Gilded paintings and red curtains hung on the walls, along with silver candlesticks, swords and various ornaments that were placed neatly on the tables. And in front of the fireplace stood another man, his profile way too familiar with the blonde, slightly wavy hair. His lithe frame was dressed exquisitely in a well-tailored, blue fabric, delicate golden details were woven into it to create sophisticated robes, hands clasped neatly behind his back and covered in jewels.

The man turned elegantly, drawing himself taller and dragging bright-blue eyes to hook onto him like a fishhook. The same man he had seen with the Duchess and Damien, _the noble._

“ _You._ ” Geralt gritted out, fingernails digging into his palms as a whole set of stirring emotions boiled in his gut now when he had someone to direct all his wild, _seething_ rage.

Jean’s mouth stretched wide into a nasty grin, watching him over satisfied and half-lidded eyes.

“Surprised, witcher? I’m honored, that a man with such vast experience from various contracts, managed not to track a single trace or clue back to me,” Jean goaded as he strolled towards a smaller table with grapes and picked up one particularly dried, almost withered grape between his thumb and index finger. “Not terribly astonishing, alas. After all, if your skills of deduction would have been more that of expertise, thousands of lives might have been spared that day,” He finished dully, no displayed emotions, squashing the grape for the last bit of juice to trickle carelessly down on his fingers before he threw it into the fire.

Guilt and shame rose in his body, twisting in his guts. Shame that he hadn’t added up the clues sooner somehow. Although, Regis and he had tried to search every possible lead, every damn corner in Toussaint without finding anything even close to finding Dettlaff. But there wasn’t a day he didn't wonder if he had missed something that might have saved all those lives, led to a different outcome. Decreased the bitterness.

 _One that would have saved Regis from dealing with his consequences._ A voice chirped in the back of his mind.

And now every damn vampire was damned in these lands too, people raging and demanding justice. Just like the man before him. He should have expected this. _He should have known._

Geralt closed his eyes, the images of grotesquely mutilated bodies and innards littered the ground flashing through his mind, the blood on his hands, before opening them again.

“That was this is all about? One vampire going rampage?” Geralt forced out, voice rough.

Jean scowled, expression turning ugly.

“Exactly, witcher. One, sole higher vampire that managed to almost raze Beauclair _to the ground,_ simply out of spite after a woman had wounded its _feelings_ ,” Jean sneered, eyes dark and wild with fury, just for a split-second, before he shut his eyes and heaved a loud exhale. “Leave us, leave the guards by the door.”

The hand on his arm abruptly slid up over his back to the bare skin on his neck, moving over it in an almost ghostly touch before venturing upwards, sliding the fingers into his hair in an intimate caress. Geralt shifted to get away, but the fingers suddenly tightened painfully over his hair and dragged him backward.

“See you later, darling, _hopefully_ that is,” The man behind him whispered in a purr. His lips hovered over his ear, breath hot against Geralt’s skin, before the man licked it with a wet, slippery tongue, leaving a trail of saliva.

Geralt shuddered unpleasantly, not even trying to hide it anymore.

The hand let go of his hair and he could hear footsteps leaving the room until the door behind shut with a soft click, leaving Geralt alone in the room with the noble.

The following silence between them was unnerving, Jean’s presence altering into something oppressive and all-devouring. Sky-blue eyes pierced right through him, feeling as though he was being peeled layer by layer with the mere gaze directed at him. _A prey._

“You have gained quite the interesting company, and I must say that I am quite stunned, I never reckoned a witcher would take delight in associating with monsters. Quite against their code, I would dare to say,” Jean said after a moment, tilting his head as if puzzled.

_Who might not be alive anymore._

Geralt bristled, anger bubbling hot and thrashing against his skin. He wanted to kick and scream, lunge at the man before him until he was so mutilated not even the coroners would be able to identify him. But the guards would interrupt him before that even happened. He had to lay low if he wanted to get out of here. Find another option.

“They aren’t monsters. Feel emotions, love and have morals just like any other damn human. Even more than humans in fact,” Geralt ground out.

“Mm, indeed. Their range of emotions is quite impressive, which also subsequently leads them to become easily provoked,” Jean said idly, strolling back to the hearth so his back was turned to Geralt, the jewels glimmering authoritatively. “Tell me, witcher. Do you know what happens when an entire species threatens the homeostasis in an already established ecosystem?”

“Change it to the better?” Geralt snarked, refusing to play along.

Jean tutted, turning on his heel to face Geralt directly.

“You’ve fraternized with those – _parasites,_ for far too long I hear,” Jean drawled and walked in front of him, leaning over him. Eyes intensely focused on him, disturbing and unblinking. “The ecosystem dies, along with the environment around it. And if it is a particularly essential ecosystem, the whole world will gradually wither. Only to begin anew.”

Geralt snorted. As if a human could say anything about that.

“One flaw in your theory though. Forgot that we have lived with higher vampires since the Conjunction of Spheres without any major stuff happening. They don’t really care about us anymore,” Geralt said dryly.

Jean chuckled suddenly, without any humor, more like a bitter sound.

“ _Really?_ Are you certain of that?” Jean said, with a sly grin, starting to pace around him from the left. “Indeed, they rarely show their appearance and are low in numbers, of course, but a puppeteer does not need to show itself, nor another to steer several puppets at once. The same regards higher vampires, controlling and manipulating at a distance. Playing on the lives of other species to keep their position in the shadows. The lodge of sorceresses is nothing but a pale comparison to the game these creatures compose to pull the strings of this world. Only in this case, the lives of thousands, _millions_ , are being threatened by the slightest provocation to their – _feelings_ and _sense of power_ ,” He finished in a harsh hiss on Geralt’s right side after he had walked a nearly complete circle, disdain dripping from every word.

“One rampaging creature doesn’t mean the entire species would do the same. Would be rather hypocritical, knowing that most humans are shit,” Geralt growled.

Jean nodded as he continued his stroll, as if unruffled, even if the fingers curled into fists between his back.

“True, most of them operate from the shadows, but incidentally, it does not make their crimes less dire,” Jean tutted, stopping in front of him with his unwavering and intense gaze pinned on him again. “Not to speak of their power of manipulation. How do you know they are not pulling your strings as we speak?”

Geralt opened his mouth to retort, finding his jaws snapping shut just as quickly with a snap. Many higher vampires could manipulate other species, and one could never really know with most of them. Many of them did have their own agendas, especially Orianna, but Regis wasn’t like that. He _knew_ Regis. Or _did._

His heart dropped into his gut.

Geralt lowered his gaze, emotions churning inside.

“Because some aren’t like that. Some of them are better than humans ever could be,” Geralt finished by looking up at him, voice dangerous.

Jean huffed, something like pity sparkling in his eyes. “You _think_ you know them, I thought I did as well in the past, but I know them better now, even better than you, witcher. Far more than you could ever fathom, and trust me when I claim they use any method to reach their goals. Sweetened words, trust, gifts and even a feigned alliance. In the end, they always strive for one sole aim; strengthen the position of their own species and enslave all, who they view as inferior, beneath them. They see us as nothing more than livestock, _food_ raised for slaughter whenever they so wish. And they would never turn on their own, it is simply not in their nature or codex.”

“Because you got so much experience with them,” Geralt sneered.

Jean threw him an inscrutable expression, regarding him for a long considerable moment.

“I once had a – _contact_ like yours,” Jean said eventually, a bit repulsed, as if he was offering an olive branch.

Geralt stared, eyes wide, before he narrowed them into slits. “And what? Didn’t meet your expectations?”

Jean clucked with his tongue, shifting his position so that his expensive shoes crunched the debris on the ground.

“She was – quite extraordinary. I will give you that,” Jean said simply, a faraway look on his face as he turned around, appearing to observe a painting with gilded borders that depicted a rather beautiful woman with curly, brown hair and a sophisticated gleam to her pale features.

“I lost much that day, my wife and my twin sons in point of fact. Merely two days before they would turn seven,” Jean continued, voice too taut as if it was carefully controlled from the sharp bitterness in it. “She had knowledge of the events, that I am certain of, alike the other higher vampires in Beauclair, and yet she as the others stayed passive as thousands of people and every member of my family were screaming, slaughtered and mutilated until they could no longer serve as amusement – until me. She had me in the state she apparently desired for quite some time when she finally took action. Alone and susceptible. Make me hers, in all possible, twisted ways.”

Geralt studied Jean, taking in the pointy cheekbones, pale features and the slightly too sharp nails.

_All possible, twisted ways._

The first one of the new shepherds, saved and transformed into a powerful creature, from secret knowledge at that. Which was odd. Didn’t exactly seem like an entirely selfish action. Higher vampires didn’t like to share their knowledge after all. Unless it was someone important to them, just like humans.

It didn’t add up. And still the knowledge must have come from somewhere, and what better way than straight from a higher vampire. _Double manipulation._

Geralt eyed him suspiciously. “That’s how you know everything?”

Jean directed him a brief nod. “Yes. She managed to be of some use despite all.”

“Lemme guess, didn’t ride into the sunset together in the end?” Geralt drawled.

“Not – _quite_ ,” Jean said darkly, a tint of glee. “But in the end, witcher, it all leads to the fact that we are not meant to be living alongside each other. They are nothing but parasites from an alien world. As many other monsters. True, we are equal in that regard, but there is a difference in numbers between our species. Millions in comparison to hundreds. It would be the lesser evil of the two to exterminate them. To prevent millions of lives to perish by the hands of these callous, conceited beasts. Just as one would rather exterminate scurvers for all time to prevent death than eliminate the entire race of humans,” He said, spinning around to show his face full of revulsion and accusation. “You, of all, should understand my cause.”

Geralt clenched his jaws, tired of hearing the same damn excuse for massacring another species, scapegoating others, labeling them as monsters just to feel better themselves, find it easier to live.

“No. Don’t lunge at every creature, just the ones’ doing harm.”

Jean heaved out a deep sigh. “That is where you and I differ, witcher. I do not want to wait for the harm to be done, even give them the chance to harm anyone. I want to prevent it, and thus, save lives before they are taken. Build a world where humans are truly free.”

Geralt remained silent, letting Jean’s speech hang in the air for a moment. He wanted to fight back, find a witty retort, but trying to reason with a revenge-hungry, cleansing-of-other-races-to-prevent-harm person was like trying to get Yen to try golden jewelry. Just didn’t happen. The tension in the air still lingered like a bomb about to explode, but he was alive for a reason and he didn’t need to listen to all this shit.

“And what do you want from me?” Geralt cut the chase.

“Only to reason with you,” Jean replied without hesitation. “You and I are not as different. We both eliminate harmful monsters to protect those who need to be protected, prevent future hazards. Not to speak of that you have managed to gain some of these monsters’ trust, which can be an incredible asset. Thus, I see you as a valuable ally, witcher.”

Geralt breathed in deeply, sucking in an exasperated breath through his teeth. For someone who had such deep hatred and prejudice for an entire species, and the experience of probably torturous experiments if the shepherd process was anything like the trial of grasses. He sure didn’t have any problem in continuing in the footsteps of those higher vampires who really were conceited and cruel.

“That what you meant when you said your – _contact_ was of use, manipulating them after you gain their trust?” Geralt derided.

Jean flashed him a smile full of white, a bit too fanged teeth, and did nothing to deny it.

Nausea churned in Geralt’s stomach, tension rippling on his neck from all the boiling anger.

“Listen,” Geralt growled out, apparently not keeping his face stony anymore as Jean dropped his smile. “Get what you are saying, but that’s just a sorry ass excuse for a bullshit opinion. It would be like murdering every child of nasty people even if it might be completely different when it grows up; or punish them for crimes they haven’t done yet and maybe never will do because we want to prevent _future hazards_ , which leads to the fact that we would need to eliminate humans altogether really. Hell, they cause more trouble and deaths than other creatures. Still doesn’t mean they are all shit or don’t deserve a chance to prove they are good overall. Appearances and races don’t define us, actions do. All in all, I won’t say or do shit for you, because I don’t murder innocents.”

Jean sighed dramatically, his entire posture wilting on the spot.

“You are naïve, witcher. Sometimes one needs to sacrifice a few to save many. One cannot save all. It would not even be quite a sacrifice as the world would flourish without these callous and merciless parasites,” Jean drawled, narrowing his already sharp eyes. “But I see we stand to agree to disagree. I am truly disappointed in you witcher. I had hoped you, if anyone, would see reason. Your chivalrous morale to protect and help the world, defeat the nefarious who prey on the defenseless, stands to be admired and held high hopes. However, it appears these monsters have indoctrinated you into their beliefs to the degree with no point of return. Truly a shame, because as much as I see you as a potentially valuable ally, I also view you as a considerable _threat._ ”

Jean’s entire face turned hard with bright-eyed indignation, and walked slowly towards him like a wild animal, as if he expected Geralt to change his mind before he reached him with his claws. But when Geralt didn’t, he moved past him and towards the door.

Geralt darted his gaze all over the room. There were no windows here either. Guards waited at the door. Although, there were plenty of solid, heavy candelabras that might even put out a higher vampire – human hybrid unconscious with enough force. _How the hell would he grab it though?_

But before he could try something, Jean shouted a command; “Guards. Escort the witcher to the dungeon.”

The door swung open in an instant, and the two figures from before quickly walked to him and hands grabbed him harshly under his arms, spinning him like a ragdoll and yanking him out of the room. Geralt struggled and wrestled, trying to throw himself against their grip, but that just made the fingers clutch tighter to his armor, enough to almost feel his bones grind. Jean stood still and nonchalant when he looked over his shoulder.

“So what? Not joining your squad of experimental hybrids, so you’re gonna imprison me until it’s all over instead?” Geralt spat mockingly.

The sinister smile flickered back into life on Jean.

“Au contraire, witcher. Most evidence regarding the existence of vampires will disappear along with them. It shall be forgotten, trail into myths and legends, along with every piece of their history in the end. A history you, alas, know far more than what is desired, and is a part of. Nonetheless, I’m also a man of virtue, and one does not simply harm an unarmed man. Thus, you will be given a fair chance to at least defend yourself,” Jean finished mysteriously, eyes gleaming. “None that matters as you will be dead by the break of dawn. If you even last that long. Farewell witcher.”

The door closed slowly behind him, Jean’s eloquent posture and sinister expression plastered on his face disappearing gradually with it.

“Piece of shit,” Geralt muttered harshly under his breath, the figures hauling him forward across the vacant room, towards the opposite side with broad double-doors. Their grips were ruthless and hard, as if they didn’t care anymore if he was in one piece, which wasn’t a good sign.

The massive doors opened with a squeak from the groaning, rusty hinges, smelling damp and musty just like the cell he had been in at first. A steep set of stairs descended into the stuffy darkness.

“Dammit. Guess this isn’t the way the palace baths,” Geralt drawled, but the figures stayed quiet and shoved him forwards, giving no clue to where they were heading. 

After a few additional stairs and turns, he was pulled to a stop. A shiver of apprehension slipped past his mental walls.

A massive cage stood tall and wide in front of him, empty. Almost the size of the dungeon in Tesham Mutna, but bigger and this had vertical and horizontal bars of metal reaching wide, almost across the entire high-ceiled room, net-like, which followed the cave’s inner walls to form a rectangular shape. There were even some additional doors inside the cage, metallic, obstructing the view. A bit too similar to arenas with creatures stored in the other smaller cages. Only he didn’t hear anything, or see anything.

_What the hell._

There was a muted clunk, and Geralt whipped his head around, seeing one of the figures unlock a hefty door with various locks.

Geralt barely managed to take it in before the figures behind him removed the chains from his wrists and hurled him into the cage without warning, with several equal clinks of metal sounding beside him.

Landing on his side, he grunted at both the pain of the hard, bulky ground and his sore wrists, chafed by the chains. That was when a way too familiar scent hit his nostrils, a combination of sickening sweetness and rank flesh – decomposing flesh.

Blood rose and pounded in response, and he pushed himself up straight. Several chunks of rotting flesh and white, brittle bones sticking out of them were spread around the muddy, uneven floor of the entire cage.

The less mutilated skin seemed some sort of combination between human and animal. Wrinkled and smooth with spots of fur.

Eyes darted down to see his swords glimmer on the ground, and he leaped forward to grasp them, the silver sword in a tight grip while the steel sword went to rest on his back.

“ _Aaah._ Geralt, Geralt, Geralt,” A voice leered, tutting at him from behind, footsteps nearing the cage simultaneously. He turned around to see the auburn-haired man in front of the cage, shaking his head back and forth slowly, and throwing some keys in his hands into the air. “Ever the self-sacrificing and gallant hero, standing for his values, protector of the downtrodden, which is of course, inspiring. But a man needs to also learn when to _submit_ in order to survive.”

Geralt scowled, lips almost curling into a sneer. “So sorry, as you said, not really my thing to turn into a murderer to save my own skin, that’s more the way of _a coward_.”

The man grinned, amused, stopping in front of the bars. “I’m not certain if killing murderers is classified as murdering, in fact, that is what you do for a job, is it not?”

“They aren’t all like that,” Geralt said roughly, dragging cold and thick air into his lungs.

“Keep telling yourself that. Everyone here is here for a reason, you know, not as if we aimlessly kill these - _monsters_ ,” The man drawled, without any feeling, before he let out a long, disappointed sigh and dragged his penetrating gaze to him. “You would have been a nice addition to the ranks, I’d say. Not to mention all the looong, enjoyable - _private times -_ you and I would have had. But you just had to ruin everything, didn’t you?”

Geralt clenched his jaws, grinding his teeth without saying anything, because he didn’t have to deal with this shit. He looked around at the rusty and solid bars of the cage. It reminded him a bit too much of the cage Regis had been put into.

The man tsk’ed. “Don’t bother. It’s mostly delvinite, which is stronger than most metals in our world actually. A nice extra bonus effect even when we get surprise, honored guests like you.”

“Delvi –“  Geralt went cold, gut dropping as the realization hit him. _A cage for higher vampires._

The grin stretched across the man’s lips even further, threatening to split his face.

“I see you have figured it out. Not that it will help you,” He said almost in a sing-along.

Geralt’s brows furrowed. “But this can’t really contain a higher vampire, too many gaps between the bars. Could easily mist their way out. So how –“

“True, it is more of a safety net, as it takes a longer time for higher vampires to gather all their incorporeal shell through these bars,” The man interrupted, eyes glittering in savage delight. “What truly makes them unable to change are shackles made of mainly delvinite.”

_As the shackles in Khagmar’s cage._

“Well, then, now when the explanation of certain death with no escape routes is over, it is time to open up boys! No more reason to dawdle when she is desperate for a new _plaything_. It’s been so long and I’m certain you want the answers to all your questions too –” The man’s lips parted, his row of rather sharp teeth shining in the dim lighting. “As much as I want to see _Geralt of Rivia_ in action. Truly, _a pleasure_ knowing you witcher. But alas, all good things have to end.”

The man winked at him and threw him an air-blown kiss before he placed himself on a chair further back in the room as if it was his throne, watching him with a gleeful expression.

_She?_

A loud, metallic thud resonated in the cage all of the sudden.

Geralt whirled around, to see one of the gigantic doors to another cage open up gradually until there was nothing but a dark hole staring at him.

It was silent for several seconds. But then the ground suddenly shook, two slithered yellow pupils emerging and glowing in the darkness of the cage, which increased in size by each second, fixated on him.

His breath hitched when a gigantic, white-ish creature emerged from the darkness, almost feeling nostalgic. It was similar to Dettlaff, all protruding veins and deathly pale skin, but with piercingly yellow eyes surrounded by a red sclera, horns curved around its bald head, a similar green tint to the ends of the fangs and claws, and two even more massive wings in pale-blue tones. Bigger and wider than Dettlaff’s, but moving with the grace of a panther on all fours. There was also a weird collar with red, thick spots and shackles around its wrists with a long chain between them that clinked with each movement.

_She managed to be of some use despite all._

His eyes widened.

_Shit._

Guess this explained how they managed to kill other higher vampires. A higher vampire of their own. Which looked feral, following his tracks with the slithered pupils while he took a few steps back.

For several tense seconds, they merely watched each other.

“She seems to be in quite the mood today. You’re in luck witcher!” The auburn-haired man yelled, alight with malicious pleasure.

That was all it took for the moment of peace to break, the creature charging at him.

He dived into a roll, followed by a heavy thud towards the cage’s bars, and straightened himself up to steel himself for the next attack.

A clanging sound of metal against metal near him grabbed his attention and he turned around, just in time to see the creature climb on the damn bars like some sort of lizard, a massive clawed hand right above his head. Instinctively, Geralt drew the sign Quen in the nick of time, the claws clashing on the shield with enough force to instantly dissolve it into a sea of golden sparks and hurl him away several meters. He landed heavily on his back with a groan, snapping his eyes open to see the creature almost above him with the sharp teeth glistening at him like a death omen. He rolled to the side with his silver sword, pushing himself up while a massive hand hit his previous spot, clawing grooves into the ground a millisecond later.

Geralt sprinted towards the higher vampire, twirling around as the hands and feet of the creature stomped on the ground in a seeming attempt to crush him. He lunged forward to draw Igni and his sword at the body, swinging it heavily on the chest.

The smell of burnt flesh hung in the air as the creature shrieked, a thin stream of blood dripping from the cut on its chest. Its head whisked instantly towards him, glossy eyes bright with fury, snarling ominously. Out of nowhere, a large and dark shape from above descended towards him. He tried to dodge it, but the next thing he knew, he was flying in the air and a sharp line of pain blossomed around his chest. Even more as he landed with a hard thud on the ground again, stealing his breath, only a few inches from one of the cage’s walls. The silver sword flew from his fingers and skittered on the ground to land a few meters from him.

“Bravo! Quite the show, I admit, almost as imagined! But you will have to be faster than that to survive, _Geralt_ ,” The auburn-haired man cheered with his grin frozen on his face, clapping his hands.

Winching as he tried to get up, he felt how his entire chest began to numb just as in Beauclair, only this was a much stronger sensation. He glanced down to see blood mixed with a green substance ooze from his chest, coloring his armor. The wound from before had reopened with the new cut across it. Both rather deep.

Geralt cursed.

This higher vampire was faster than Dettlaff. Much faster.

Not to speak that it had some sort of venom in its claws and fangs that numbed him.

After all his near-death experiences and how he had basically cheated death since the day he was carried to Kaer Morhen, he hadn’t expected that this was how he would finally die. Not really surprising though. No witcher had ever died in their bed. Guess he wouldn’t be any different. At least he would potentially join Regis in the void.

“Geralt!” A voice he recognized bellowed desperately, in a panic.

His heart leaped, a wave of pure relief crashing over him like an uncontrollable flood.

_Regis._

His head whipped around as a reflex, even if everything else screamed at him to keep his focus on everything in front of him. But he had to make sure, know Regis was at least alive before it all turned into nothingness.

Regis sprinted towards the cage, looking even paler than usual, eyes wide and distraught with Orianna hot on his heels with a familiar heavy, red armor clinging onto them. Suddenly a lot happened almost simultaneously after that. Orianna lunged towards the figures surrounding the cage, the auburn-haired man yelling, and he was certain he heard a few pained gurgles in the background. But his eyes were pinned on Regis, who was _alive_.

Regis darted everywhere around and over Geralt, the wounds on him, the sword to the side and the bestial higher vampire merely a few meters from him that stalked forward like a panther. Eyes turned even wider, fearful and pinned on him, before Regis thrust himself into the air, changing mid-leap into a dark, black-grey mist that seeped through the armor and the holes between the bars of metal.

As the mist was above him, Regis emerged again from practically nothing. Not in his human form, but the gigantic and monstrous bat with sleek, dark fur and enormous crimson wings, flinging himself in front Geralt and screeching a shrill cry. The ears were flattened against Regis’ head with fangs bared. Regis continued to growl in a resonating low and deep rumble, each step a minor earthquake. The other higher vampire didn’t even flinch, merely curling its upper lip further to reveal its own row with a million of fangs.

Geralt barely managed to take one look as Regis’ eyes blended into bright crimson, nostrils flaring, before an entire ghastly row of teeth lunged towards Regis’ neck, almost too fast to see, but Regis was just as quick to evade it and barreled into the creature, lethal claws digging into the skin and tearing long, gory gashes. The sound of skin ripping and claws clashing at each other pierced his ears. It all happened so quickly that he could barely follow it. One moment the vampires were lunging at each other and swirling their wings, the other tumbling around as they fought on the ground before they lunged and snapped their jaws at each other, increasing the distance between Geralt and the other higher vampire.

Then there was a sickening snap of bones and blood dripping onto the ground, Regis shrieking as the other higher vampire had chomped down on his shoulder.

Rage poured through him, blood pounding with protective rage and struggling himself up even if everything was hurting. Pressing a palm over one of his wounds to still the bleeding and the silver sword in the other, he drew himself straight as much he could, about to sprint –

“Geralt!” Orianna shouted behind him, and Geralt stopped to turn around to see her with keys in the locks of the door, something frightened and restless twisting vaguely on her face. “We will not have long. Once I have unlocked this door, I’ll try to distract our elder as long as possible and you will have to take Regis out of this cage during that time!”

Geralt’s stomach took another plunge to the abyss, hearing the feral, instinct-driven higher vampires snarl in the background. “Dunno if you have noticed, but he isn’t exactly lucid! Better chances if I’m the distraction while you take him out!”

Orianna scowled.

“ _Geralt,_ you are the only one who can reach him, the only one he _will listen_ to, just as in Beauclair, because you are his potential _mate_ ,” Orianna announced out of the blue.

Geralt stared blankly at her, all air sucked out of him.

_What?_

Now that couldn’t be right. That meant that Regis had feelings – Higher vampires only have a few potential mates – Only fall for completely, compatible –

Then everything hit him at once, all the loose threads knitting together as they had been there all along – waiting for him to finally make the associations.

Regis’ quirk to always be there for him and damning all the consequences as long as it meant helping him, sacrificing everything for him, becoming an anathema for all his existence by protecting him, the coy and smug glances combined with the sad, almost longing glances directed at him, the way he had stared at him back in the old days as if nothing else had mattered even if he was following a complete stranger with mostly shitty demeanor, how he was fighting another higher vampire this very moment to protect him.  

 _Oh fuck._  

His heart sped up as Orianna directed bright, earnest eyes at him, clenching painfully between hope and disbelief.

Orianna’s mouth twisted as a particularly nasty rip sounded in the air, visible panic bubbling beneath the surface of her eyes, pleading. “Geralt, he will _die_. He cannot compete against an elder, especially not this one with venom that stops all regeneration abilities no matter where the venom is injected, but his instincts tell him to protect you, or die trying.”

A roar boomed in the room. Whirling his head around, he saw that Regis had managed to wrench himself out of the jaws to dive for another vicious attack, but like Orianna had said, the wounds didn’t heal on him. He was bleeding heavily, trailing onto the ground and the fur and leaving blots of thick, dark blood everywhere.

Geralt’s breath hitched, his insides going into knots. He distantly nodded at Orianna, not knowing what else what to do as he tried to not panic.

There was too much to take in at once.

The entire room lapsed into tense silence, almost the slowest seconds he had ever experienced. One moment Orianna was at the door, the other inside the cage and closing the door with a click, closed but unlocked, and transformed into this lithe figure with gaunt features as in the cave that had collapsed.

There were no noticeable features to determine any kind of gender, merely long extremities with sharp edges standing on two legs. The almost hollow eye sockets beside for the slit pupils that were unnatural and ethereal in the dark room, and the lean and long extremities with sharp ends were unsettling. Unlike Regis, she was more calculating and following each movement with her quick-shifting pupils. It was all he managed to see before she basically ploughed herself straight between Regis and the other higher vampire in essentially a second. A wave of air washed over him, which was the only sign that she had been near him just a moment ago, hurling one powerful, fast blow with her elongated hands that made the other higher vampire trash backward to avoid it just as fast. Then they snarled threateningly, mirroring each other’s movements. For a moment Regis appeared undecided to which creature to attack, clearly still not in his right mind.

Geralt took a steely grip on his sword and ran, the smell of coppery tang of blood fresh in his nostrils.

Regis tossed his head around as he neared them, locking wild and crimson eyes at him. Only this time, Regis actually growled, thrashing one massive wing between Geralt and him, as well as the other higher vampires, shielding him and curling into a tight position as if preparing to plunge forward again.

_Instincts tell him to protect you, or die trying._

Geralt clenched his jaw.

Making an effort to squash the rising panic twisted with the raw, throbbing affection, he dropped his silver sword with a clank to grab the wing, refusing to let go as Regis began to stalk forwards back to the others.

“Regis,” Geralt tightened his grip, and Regis’ massive head and snout perked up and peered at him over his shoulder, his ears directed towards him. “Regis, we need to get out. _Now,_ ” Geralt said more firmly, but there was no movement, no sign that Regis even understood what he was saying. “ _Regis,_ ” He pleaded.

For a long moment nothing happened, only awful noises of roaring and ripping flesh encircled them, but then Regis stirred with a deep rumble, and the eyes turned slightly softer around the edges and darker shade of reds spread around the irises.

Regis retracted his wing, enclosing the claw-tipped wing around him, and lifted him up high in the air.

“Hey!” Geralt yelped, startled, and Regis whirled around with his imposingly massive body and moved briskly to the opposite direction.

Regis didn’t even slow down when the wide and long metal bars constricted his path, just minimized himself in size and let down Geralt to the ground before he barreled himself into the door that shot open, crashing on the bars with a loud metallic bang. With the grip still of steel around his wrist, Geralt was dragged along through it before the door closed again like a sort of ricochet from the mere force.

The figure twisted and flickered in shape until it was the same, human-like Regis as always with his leathery-grey clothes, quiet and still clinging to Geralt’s wrist, but there was a dangerous aura whipping in the air and coiling around him.

Geralt knew he should at least care a little about what was happening behind him, lock the door behind them to not let the rabid higher vampire out of the cage, make sure Orianna was alright too, but he couldn't. His eyes were fixed on the grievous, fleshy wound on Regis’ right shoulder, still not healing, blood and green substance trailing down on his clothes. There were several lacerations and cuts all over his body, his face, neck, basically everywhere, and still he marched up the stairs when they reached the corridor as if it didn’t matter.

Geralt made a strangled little sound. “Regis, your wounds – “

But then he was suddenly slammed to the side with his hands pinned to the hard, cold wall.

“What – “ Geralt began, sucking in a sharp, surprised breath when Regis suddenly crushed his lips to Geralt’s, and every train of thought stopped working. There was only the slick heat of Regis’ mouth, his warm body almost against his, the prominent species combined with the slight scent of petrichor surrounding him and the strong, nimble hand that slipped into his hair with ease to angle the kisses better. It felt more like an assault than kissing. Frantic, hot and desperate as if there was no time left in the world despite being an immortal, trying to compensate for lost time with merely lips and heat.

Geralt almost drowned, feeling feverish and all tingly throughout his entire body down to his very toes that curled from it. His heart pounded so violently in his chest that he thought he was having a heart attack, but he wouldn’t mind. He could die like this.

“You utter – You have no idea – I thought I had lost –“ Regis almost growled, never completing his sentences as it was muffled with another kiss in skillful expertise like he did everything else. Eyes closing, Geralt kissed back as much as he could with those demanding and frantic lips on his, sliding into it without hesitation. Fingers curled around his hair in a grip that is a bit too-tight but so damn fucking right at the same time, and Geralt just _can’t_ , because everything is too much and too good. _Home._

Regis caught his bottom lip and bit down upon it gently with those sharp teeth surprisingly without drawing any blood before he continued exploring the shape of his mouth, curling the hand that had gripped his hand around Geralt’s waist to pull him closer instead.

Geralt’s breath hitched, feeling his knees go weak. It wasn’t anything he had imagined, or experienced before, it was so much better than he could have ever hoped for. All giddy heat suffused within him, because this was not merely some temporary spontaneous reaction to everything. It was because Regis wanted _him_.

Geralt curved his arms to grab a handful Regis’ clothes on his back, when the thought of Yennefer flashed, almost from nowhere, into his mind. The vivid image of the woman with raven-colored curls and lilac eyes who had waited for him, the one who had sacrificed her life for his – the one who had been there for him despite it all.

Hot guilt washed over him, spiking in his gut.

Geralt reached for Regis’ arms instead and grasped around him, pushing Regis away from him abruptly. Breathing hard, he lowered his head to gather himself.

“Regis – I - “ Geralt rasped out, his voice husky and breathy, looking up to throw an apologetic glance. “I can’t – Yen – ”

He instantly felt how Regis stiffed as a board under his hands, and there was a vulnerable moment of no walls in which Geralt saw everything flash past Regis’ now even wider eyes. Lust, affection, fear, disbelief – _panic_ , stared at him as if he experienced a moment of lucidity, only to realize that Geralt was merely a ghost all along.

”Oh dear, Oh – ” Regis threw himself back, ripping himself from Geralt’s grip as if he had been burned. Eyes were blacker than usual, pupils blown wide and cheeks slightly pink in contrast to everything else that was turning deathly white. ”I am sorry –” He added quickly, voice more vulnerable and wretched in a way Geralt had never heard before. “I am terribly sorry, Geralt – I don’t – I –“ He continued in a frantic babble, darting feverish and panicky eyes all over him before he abruptly turned into a black, foggy mist and flew over the stairs.      

“No wait – ” Geralt tried to reach out, running desperately after him when he met air, but it was too late. Regis was gone before he even managed to reach the top of the stairs. “Regis!”

No answer.

His heart twisted violently, pressure swelling in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head in his hands for his palms to dig into his eye sockets and grabbing his hair in a pathetic attempt to deal.

_Shit._

This wasn’t what he had wanted. He had wanted to explain that they couldn’t do this while he was still with Yen, because she deserved better. Much better than this.

Instead he had fucked up, saying Yen’s name way too early in the middle of it all. He should have been honest about his feelings first. But as many liked to point out, he was reckless and impulsive, not always thinking things through. He should have known that Regis would react like this, being so damn noble, having less self-preservation than him, and always considering others before himself. And Regis had a tendency to take a step back whenever he felt his presence wasn’t wanted, unless it concerned Geralt, then he just lurked in the shadows until he was needed, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the same this time.

He gripped his hair even tighter.

Somewhere behind him, a sharp, rustling noise swayed in the air until there was a crack and suddenly Orianna with her vivid hair and equally flaringly red armor was in front him when he looked up.

“Where is Regis?” Orianna took him and the surroundings in with a shrewd, calculating gaze, as if she somehow could see what had just happened. “ _Ah_ – “ She just said, sighing, with a tint of concern for once. “Follow me then, we need to get you home to tend to your wounds.”

Geralt gritted his teeth, frustration seeping into every fiber of his core.

“Why do you even care – “ Geralt snapped, stopping himself to close his eyes and exhale slowly. “Sorry, didn’t mean that.”

Orianna said nothing for a long moment, hazel eyes meeting his, unblinking, almost impassive if it wasn’t for the flickers of frustration and pity that lingered for just a second.

“I know,” Orianna said softly. “I believe we need to talk. Visit me tomorrow at my estate once your wounds have been tended to.”

Astonished and speechless, Geralt just stared at her, not knowing what to do with this version of Orianna that almost sounded like she actually cared, and what she could possibly want to talk voluntarily with him – _alone_.

Suddenly the tide of anger was swept away by it, until his stomach roiled, sliding into apprehension and slight panic instead, realizing they were still in the den of these vampire-human experiments and a rabid, feral higher vampire elder in the dungeon. “What about everyone down – “

“Nothing of concern anymore. The elder will come to her senses after a few hours,” Orianna interrupted, turning towards a new door. “It’s over witcher. Come along, I suspect you need quite a bit of rest.”

“I –“ Geralt rasped, struggling to find his voice with all the emotions hot and heavy inside of him. “Need to find Regis first.”

Orianna threw him a long, sidelong glance.

“He might have taken refuge in the cemetery,” She admitted, expression indecipherable. “I need to survey the area, ensure that nothing else passes through these gates, but the door to the left leads to the exit. It should be safe.”

His chest tightened, stung by everything she had done for them despite being endlessly coy, otherwise careless and cold, not knowing how to really express his gratitude with words that didn’t seem to cover even half of it.

“Thank you,” Geralt said faintly, really meaning it.

Orianna stilled, pulling back her shoulder and peering at him with her signature coy smirk.

“A witcher who thanks a monster? Now that is a surprise,” Geralt was almost certain he saw a genuine smile for once, before she continued to walk as if unaffected, without looking back. “ _Go_ Geralt, find Regis.”

That was the second time today Orianna had said his name without disdain.

* * *

Feeling as if he had been running all over Toussaint, which he had almost done, the weight on his chest continued to expand until it almost wanted to crush him. He had visited the cemetery first, but he had only found Evelyn and Joseff there, intact to his relief as they had nagged him to lie down, his wounds smelling a mile off. He had just shaken his head and told them to go wait for him at Corvo Bianco, but Evelyn had declined the offer. They would stay at Orianna’s, which was nearer their family’s home as they would reconstruct it before they sold it or something. Evelyn had raised an imperious eyebrow at him, a smug look on her face before she had scolded him when he had begun to walk out to continue trying to find Regis, promising she would perform the I-told-you-so dance on his grave if he collapsed and died while at it.

But Regis was nowhere to be found, or maybe he was running away whenever Geralt came a bit too close for his liking.

He tried to push away the worry and the unhelpful thoughts that continued to invade his mind, all accusing him, without even managing a little bit.

The wounds were still bleeding and not closing with all the stretching from the walking, perhaps from the venom, or both, but he didn’t care, merely tried to stifle it by pressing his palms to it after he had wrapped an old bandage he had found in his pouches.

In the end he had headed for Corvo Bianco when his vision had begun to blur.

As he pushed the door open to Corvo Bianco, a faint light streamed through the spring to illuminate the concrete steps outside along with a pleasantly warm and hospitable draft from the inside, which was nothing he had been expecting. It had been too obvious.

His heart wrenched in his chest. _Regis._

He opened the door with his stomach in knots, barely breathing.

A slender, womanly figure stood in front of the dinner table with candles still lit in the otherwise silent house, clinging to a piece of paper as if her life depended on it. All her muscles on her back as strained as her expression. _Yennefer._

His heart sank, and at that moment, he hated himself.

When she finally turned around to look at him, she seemed to deflate with relief with her shoulders easing down, dropping the letter to let it fall uncaringly to the floor, and the gloom waned from her face.

Yennefer approached him with determined and brisk steps, almost running towards him.

Geralt swallowed, guilt still swirling and threatening to eat him alive.

“Yen, I – “

Yennefer slid her fingers into his hair, dragging him down to meet her in a kiss, deep and hard, before he could even react.

Geralt froze, every muscle taut.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

It took every ounce of willpower to not pull away right away. Every sense and nerve in his body kept screaming at him to push her away. It didn’t feel right, not even a little, and thankfully she ended their kiss before he did something damn stupid.

“Thank god you are alright,” Yennefer said breathlessly against his lips, lilac eyes staring up under dark lashes into his. “The letter merely mentioned you were in danger with Regis assuring he would do everything in his power to find you, no location nor details, or I would have stormed after you.”

Geralt watched her carefully, searching for anger because hell, he deserved it more than ever but he found nothing but genuine concern. “Aren’t you mad?”

Yennefer raised a thin, neat eyebrow, carding her fingers gently through his hair.

“For what? Being kidnapped _against your will_? But yes, I'm, however, still furious over the ball. After all, strong emotions as well as patience have never really been my strong suits despite my otherwise impeccable character. But none of it matters, not anymore,” Yennefer admitted gently. “If we would linger on all the ‘what ifs’ and our past choices, then our arguments would never end as thrilling as that sounds. There are better ways to spend our time,” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a rough hug. The scent of lilac and gooseberries everywhere. A scent he had once associated with home. Now he wasn’t so sure. “What truly matters is that you are here. Alive.”

Geralt lifted his arm reluctantly in response, other heated and forbidden memories rushing past his mind, and clung to her forever flawless, neat clothes in black and white.

He closed his stinging eyes, resting his head on her shoulder.

Everything was a mess.

And he felt torn. A small part of him still thought to he should stay with her after all she had done for him, while everything else screamed at him to make an official break up, because this wasn't fair to him, not to anyone in the long run.

The small part became even smaller when all he could hear was a certain voice in his head, clear as if it was right beside him.

_Sometimes, a bit too often, we settle with what we think is right, instead of what is right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMOOCHES. 
> 
> Anyywaay, some explanation for the curious ones - some might wonder why the fuck Regis and Orianna can transform in one moment, tearing their clothes apart and being butt-naked when transforming back, and fully-clothed at other times. Well, it appears that higher vampires can somehow control their own molecules and even, in fact, molecules around them such as their clothes, which makes them able to change shapes and size, and the human-like form might be only 1/10 of them while the other parts might be invisible around them. My theory is that transforming merely themselves becomes automatic and more instinct-driven (some parts might harder to change, such as nails and fangs, and might need more concentration and conscious effort or training?), while however, it takes more concentration and training to change molecules of other things than themselves. So thus, in very emotional states, or stressful situations which makes them more instinct-driven and less conscious in general, they merely control their own molecules as an automatic response. And in this chapter, Regis became feral/instinct-driven after transforming into a gigantic bat, hence, conscious transformation before that. Much explanation, much theory


	12. Chapter 12

Geralt awoke in his regular bed, alone, the room was obnoxiously bright with the curtains pulled to the sides. He didn’t even remember getting to bed, until Yennefer stormed into the room with new bandages and ointments _,_ fussing snidely over the dreadful lack of decent doctors in the area and that she could replace them if she wanted a new thrilling profession, "that would teach them", remembering how everything had turned black after a few minutes in his home, just like in the cemetery. He listened to her slightly condescending tone, watching her change his bandages, knowing she was still pissed over the ball and deserved an apology despite her trying to not dwell on it, _deserved more in general._

The guilt almost ate him alive, because he had to tell her.

And he wanted nothing but to throw himself out the window, stitches and all, when he asked if she had seen Regis, but every fiber of him wanted to know. She just frowned and said she thought he had moved all his things to the cemetery like the previous time. The guest room was empty.

Just like she had said, when he stood in the middle of the guest room. All of Regis’ things were gone.

_Everything._

Not even a note. No trace that he had even been here to begin with.

That was how he found himself inside the cemetery after Yen had reluctantly let him out of the house, probably just to get some quiet after his relentless nagging that it was important and he would just be out for a while. He groaned slightly at the stretching of his stitched wounds, but he couldn’t care less.

It was quiet, a few lit candles flickering eerily in the crypt. The shelves were just as empty as last time, no herbs, vials or sketches scattered on the desk, only one sole letter stared blankly back at him, labeled to him, _in Regis' handwriting._

Geralt’s heart stuttered, almost throwing himself over it before he opened it.

> _Dear Geralt,_
> 
> _As you read these words, I will be far beyond the borders of Toussaint once again (Which, of course, I believe you have already ahead this letter with the lack of my things cluttering your estate, but I still nevertheless felt you deserved official corroboration and more than anything else, an explanation)._
> 
> _Words cannot possibly convey how truly sorry I am for how events turned out in the very end. I had like to deny it, accuse the unique circumstances as the sole perpetrator, alas, I can do neither. You deserve the truth, nothing less. What happened between us lies solely on me, my wrongdoing, and as I’m sure you can surmise, I care for you, rather deeply, but I do not expect reciprocity. Nothing of the sort. What happened was a one-time event, call it a moment of weakness from my part, spurred by the circumstances. I hope we can still remain friends despite all, and I wish you and Yennefer all the happiness for the future. Do not doubt that for a second._
> 
> _Take care, Geralt – May our paths converge once again under better circumstances._
> 
>  
> 
> _Your dearly devoted friend,_
> 
> _Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy_

No location. Nothing to trace him with. Nothing to suggest he would visit any time soon. _Once again._ Could mean a lot of things, but Geralt knew that phrasing better, especially with Regis.

He was walking out from the picture.

For good.

No plans to return, unless they happened to meet by chance.

Geralt sat on the chair beside the desk, sitting there for a long, long time with the letter in his hand.

* * *

”Madame Orianna. Geralt of Rivia demands a word with you,” Her steward announced.

Geralt began to think Orianna didn’t own any other chairs, or tables, sitting beside the same table as the other times he had visited her, decorated with various plates of food and beverages. Way too much for just one person. Especially for someone who didn’t need to _eat or drink_.

Orianna’s hair was styled in a bun. Dress unruffled as ever, a mix of green and blue with meticulous frills, as if she hadn’t slaughtered a bunch of shepherds just a few hours ago. Piercing, surprised eyes flickered up at him, shifting luxuriantly like a cat as if she didn’t already know he was here.

 _Appearances, Geralt. Appearances,_ _like mamunes and dopplers, deceive._

Geralt shut his eyes for a moment, eyes stinging at the memories that continued to swipe past him, _remind him of the cold reality_.

“Is that so? Very well, I will tend to the matter immediately,” Orianna regarded the servant, and the man just bowed slightly before he left them. Alone. The unease seeped almost into his bones. “I trust your wounds are healing accordingly?”

“Yeah. Just fine,” Geralt said warily, doubting Orianna actually wanted to talk about his well-being, especially as she just stared expectantly at him, feeling as if he was measured and analyzed layer by layer. “How did you even manage to find me back there? Been trying to find these shepherds for days without anything.”

“Naturally. Higher vampires, as well as these – _experiments_ , can evade detection by many means. Humans cannot, which was their first mistake. It was merely a matter of favors after you had been taken, no effort at all,” Orianna said, gesturing with a wine glass in her hand towards the chair on the opposite side of her. “Take a seat, witcher, I suspect your wounds could stand to use some more rest. The venom has a slightly similar effect even on humans, slowing down their healing process and sensations. In the right dosage, it can even paralyze the victim or induce a vegetative state.”

Geralt’s stomach dropped, realization slipping through. “Wait – Do you think – Shit, the noble might have used that on Syanna.”

“Yes, I believe so too. Fortunately, there is an antidote and I’ll trust you with a sample to give to Her Grace after this, since I'd rather not be involved,” She said bluntly, impassive, but something dangerous whirled in the air.

Geralt heaved a deep sigh, taking the seat on the other side. “Yeah, I get it, don’t want anything to be tracked back to you. Remain discrete and secretive.”

“Quite so,” Orianna’s eyes seemed to gleam, lolling her head to the side to glance over the shores of Beauclair. “I’ve grown quite fond of this place, even if I have to disappear every thirty years or so, only to return after a few years with a new name and claim to be the successor of the previous owner.”

“Might be more difficult now with the new actual wards you adopted all of the sudden,” Geralt drawled, because she didn’t seem like the regular mother-type.

Orianna shifted back, her eyelids dipped.

“What can I say? I have a weakness for children,” Orianna said coyly, lips twitching at the edges. “I suspect they will not linger for long, only until they find more suitable lodgings. Evelyn was rather clear on that matter.”

Geralt flitted his gaze over the estate. Empty. “Where even are they?”

“Gathering a small group of builders to reconstruct their current home, to get rid of it as quickly as possible. I’ve my watchers on them, of course, in case any shepherds are still in the area,” Orianna admitted, sipping languidly on her liquid. At least it was less thick this time.

His stomach flipped.

“Think some managed to escape?” Geralt asked, and cold, unremorseful eyes drew over him.

“More as in not all of them might have been in the estate while I was – _cleansing_.” Orianna drawled darkly with a gleeful, satisfied curl on her lips.  

Geralt suppressed an unpleasant shiver and stared coolly back. “Mhm. And the elder? Won’t cause any more trouble? Think she was the first one to even create a new shepherd.”

“I know,” Orianna sighed deeply. “She has never been known for her patience, nor thinking about the consequences of her actions,” She continued flatly, her nose gracefully wrinkling in disdain. “But no. She is not a threat anymore with her mate dead.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed.

“ _What?_ Who –” Geralt’s eyes widened. _All possible, twisted ways._ “Jean.”

“Yes, I believe she tried to create a less fragile mate. One that wouldn’t perish after a mere blink of an eye,” Orianna confirmed, a palpable trace of pity.

Geralt threw her skeptical eyes. “Sure about that? He didn’t seem particularly fond of her.”

“I know so. A mate is the only thing, other than addiction, that can drive a higher vampire feral, driven by mere instincts to be precise, and the collar was covered in this person’s blood. Which leads to the topic I wanted to discuss,” Her expression seemed to sharpen, leaning forward with her arms crossed haughtily over her lap. “What are your intentions towards Regis?”

Startled, his heart plummeted, eyes widening and head snapping up to fully look at her.

Of course she knew. Like she knew everything else. Suddenly this meeting was making a bit more sense.

“This what this is all about? The mate thing?” Geralt asked drily, some of the bitterness starting to leak. “Sorry, but last time I checked, it was none of your business.”

Orianna kept silent, penetrating eyes boring into him without even blinking once.

Geralt groaned, just wanting to scrub his face.

“Ugh. Why do you even – I don’t –“ He closed his eyes, emotions lurking a bit too close to the surface. He wasn’t going to let Orianna see him vulnerable, last person he wanted to show that side to, goddammit. And still he stayed, not even knowing why he put up with any of this. He could just walk away, but instead he found himself saying; “He could have anyone, while I’m just -”

“Geralt,” Orianna interrupted, face inscrutable. “Do you know how rare it is to be a potential mate for a higher vampire?”

“Lemme guess, very rare?” Geralt snarked, even if he already knew the answer.

“Just so. The last mate I had was 300 years ago. Some, even older than me, have yet to find one,” Orianna said, holding him in silence for a moment with a scheming gaze. “So no, Geralt, no one else is better suited for him, most likely. Not when we only fall for nearly completely, compatible ones to begin with.”

His heart clenched, eating at his chest, along with the constantly present guilt. “Didn’t exactly do much good to Dettlaff, or your elder, though.”

“Why do you think we are having this terribly moving dialogue?” Orianna said drily, lips slightly pursed. “It is not a flawless process, and humans work differently than us. Solely because they are our mates do not equal they feel the same, as humans do not necessarily fall for compatible people, but it doesn’t lessen their influence over us. An influence which can turn a higher vampire into a _weapon_ against their _own brethren_ , or protection as our instincts tell us to defend them from harm, even from ourselves, unless it is a conscious act. This is why a human mate can be incredibly dangerous, as seen. Twice.”

“Wouldn’t do that to him, he deserves –“ Geralt defended quickly and stopped himself, releasing a deep, shuddering breath. _Everything. To be happy. To not be an anathema._ Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, he stared straight into her eyes. “This your discrete vampire way to tell me to back off?”

Orianna cocked her head to the side, humming mysteriously. “Depends. Choosing a higher vampire as a mate is more permanent. Our feelings do not wane with time as long the mate is around. Even once the mate is dead or distant, it may take centuries before the feelings even fade. So, I expect you to be certain of your decision, as well as your intentions.”

For a long moment, he couldn’t do anything but stare at her, because he didn’t have any answer. All he had done for Regis was to drag into new depths of hell, dragging him into his shit. Everything was pointing to the fact that Regis would be better off without him.

Geralt swallowed hard.

“Didn’t exactly peg you for the match-maker of Beauclair. Especially since I’m a _human_ , potentially dangerous and all.” Geralt said drily.

“Well, you know. I’m getting on in years – Things change, takes a bit more to get me worked up,” Orianna said coyly, an almost fond look on her face. “He was there for me during trying times, and I wish to do the same for him. I too, prefer him to find peace at very long last.”

The pressure on his ribs would almost certainly crack them if it continued to swell.

“Touching as speeches go, but you know it doesn’t matter anymore right? He’s gone.” Geralt drawled, suddenly hoarse.

“And yet, one raven has been watching you very carefully ever since you entered my estate,” Orianna darted her eyes to the side.

Geralt whirled, neck cracking, to see a lone raven perching on one of the walls of the estate – far away from the others above it.  

_My watchers. Were something to go wrong, I could arrive quickly to help._

“He is not entirely gone, likely never has. We are very protective over our mates, even potential ones, after all,” Orianna’s voice droned in the distance, barely managing to outvote the pounding of his heart. “I reckon you will find him if you decide to, but he will keep his distance if you will not. He has always been terribly unselfish.”

“And guessing you know where I could find him?” Geralt said snidely, breathless, eyes still on the raven.

A sly smirk spread on her face. “I may have suspected this scenario, and I may also have ordered my watchers to trail him.”

Sizzling, merciless hope flooded over him as he turned around. “Then where – “

Orianna tsk’ed several times at him and gripped her wine glass again, swirling it.

“I never said I would help out of the kindness of my heart, witcher. I always have a price for my services,” She peered slyly over her glass, somehow managing to stare him down even if Geralt was taller, and he couldn’t help but flinch, dreading what it would cost him. A big part of him didn’t even care as long he found Regis. “If you meet with him. Inform him that we have withdrawn his anathema status.”

Geralt froze, mouth dropping slightly in shock.

“ _What?_ That’s – That –“ He stammered, bewildered. “ _Why?”_

Orianna grinned, wicked. “Our codex is rather strict, unbending, but there are a few – _loopholes_ so to say. One of them is that a higher vampire cannot be held for his or her actions if another higher vampire decides to raise their hand towards their mate and potential mate in their presence, as we, as you have already seen, become instinct-driven.”

Geralt swallowed. “But back then – His eyes were black, as if it was a cons –“

“Some details are better left out, _master witcher_ ,” Orianna cut him off, the unnerving grin still plastered on her face. “The sentence stands, or at least, he has a trial year to prove he is with us, unconditionally, regardless of the circumstances. If he does not kill one of our kind during this time, he will regain his full status as one of us.”

Geralt could barely breathe, too speechless, while Orianna just grasped a bottle on the table and filled her glass in the meanwhile, unperturbed as if it all was just in a day’s work, before raising her intense gaze and a conceited eyebrow at him.

“Now, tell me witcher. _What is it you wish to do?_ ”

* * *

_1 month later_

All the tracks and leads led to a smaller cottage he hadn’t thought he would ever see again. It had a door this time, instead of merely a hanging curtain. _Outside_ _Fen Carn._ Nostalgia hung in the air, the memories of late nights with mandrake hooch, spilling their secrets, when everyone was still alive, were still fresh in his mind. And something else, something like unease. An odd prickle had spread across the back of his neck the moment he had walked into this dwelling, even if his medallion continued to keep silent and unresponsive.

Geralt raised his fist, holding a breath, and knocked on the door, the sound of his knuckles striking hollow wood echoing in his ears. His heart hammered wildly in his chest.

There were no sounds inside, nothing to indicate that someone lived here.

His stomach lurched unpleasantly.

“Regis!” Geralt shouted, knocking more briskly, but it was as still as the first time. He rattled on the doorknob, locked, and the windows looked just as tightly sealed. “Dammit.”

But there it was again, the nerve-tingling feeling of being watched. Geralt looked around, seeing nothing but trees swaying in the wind and various kinds of herbs, neatly ordered with barely any weeds, as if _someone_ was tending them.

Geralt stared suspiciously into the thin air. “Regis, know you are here. Can literally feel you boring holes into my head.”

Regis emerged from nothing, the equally familiar grey-leathered tunic neatly snugged to his lithe figure as if time hadn’t affected him even a little, arms crossed, leaning on a tree a few meters from the garden. Geralt couldn’t stop the tug at his heart, which felt more like a punch.

His face was indecipherable, stoic and indifferent, watching him intensely without moving even an inch.

“Peculiar. Especially when, as I’m certain you can recall, vampires can evade detection of the senses,” Regis said wryly.

Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off Regis, finding it hard to breathe. All the late nights, self-loathing gnawing on him, worrying about the worst – that he would never see Regis again. That the tracks would dissolve into nothing. And here he was. Just a few meters before him, after several weeks of searching, even with Orianna’s help.

“And thought higher vampires could sense me a mile off, and still you are here, hiding near a tree instead,” Geralt said equally wryly, trying to hide the massive wave of relief that swept over him.

“Quite right you are, such strange fellows we make,” Regis said with a lop-sided smirk without his eyes to follow. “Though what is most puzzling is why you are even here. This is well beyond what witchers customarily travel for a mere contract, in which I also have none to offer, besides my own head, of course, but I rather value it.”

He stared at Regis’ tense posture, throat dry.

“You know why,” Geralt said, moving closer to Regis and stopping only a few meters from him. “Regis, what happened –“

Regis sighed loudly, putting up a hand in the air. “There's really no need to explain yourself, Geralt. What happened was – a mistake, an impromptu response to the circumstances, nothing more. This I know, and I –“

“Don’t believe that for a second,” Geralt interrupted, heart pounding helplessly in his chest. “Know you don’t risk everything for a whim. Besides, can’t really have missed my reactions to you lately. So not really impromptu.”

“It has not, but attraction does not equal lo –“ Regis’ face scrunched up, eyes downcast, pure anguish rushing by for a mere second. “ _Something more,_ not that I could fathom why you would ever find my appearance attractive. Nonetheless, my statement still stands. It was a mistake, a grievous one, as I forced myself upon you when you clearly are in love with Yennefer. Thus, there was really no need to travel here out to – “

“We are not together anymore,” Geralt cut him off again.

Regis dropped his hands and merely stared at him, looking completely gobsmacked. “I – _Come again?_ ”

“Didn’t work out. Never really have. Worked even less for some reason when I found myself falling for this frustratingly ridiculous and selfless vampire who ran away before I could say so,” Geralt confessed bluntly, no point hiding it anymore, seeing Regis’ eyes widen dramatically. “Haven’t happened to see him? About my height, snarky and likes to describe things at great length and in detail. Supposed to live here. Got a bone to pick with him.”

Regis swallowed so hard that his Adam’s apple bobbed, eyes nervously flitting over him. “Geralt – You cannot possibly mean – That’s not – “

“Why not?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Regis’ expression turned even more strained, the blank facade slipping. “Sorry Geralt, but I find it a far-fetched alternative when all the evidence is stacking up against it. The vast number of years together, the sacrifices conducted on each part, the memorizing ballads and memoirs all across for the continent to hear, all accumulating to the same logical conclusion – Your never-ending devotion for Yennefer.”

Geralt’s heart twisted at the evident pain that managed to seep through the occasional gaps of factual indifference, watching the way Regis’ shoulders crowed up towards his ears – everything signaling defensiveness.

“ _Devotion_ ,” Geralt echoed. “Think she would be pretty amused to hear that,” He continued wryly, taking another step forward. “Do love her, but not in that way, at least not anymore. Maybe haven’t for quite some time, especially not after the bond between us was broken. Thing is, what I feel for you is stronger than I’ve felt for anyone. _Ever_.”

Regis stared at him, dark eyes sharp with disbelief. “What happened back – “

“Didn’t stop because I wanted to stop. Hell, wanted to do much more, been for quite a while, but interrupted everything because it wasn’t fair to you or Yen. Had to settle things with her first, because you both deserved that,” Geralt went on.

“I – I –“ Regis stammered, averting his gaze which was brimming with insecurity. “I must say I certainly did not expect this,” He locked their gazes together again, misery and resolution staring bright at him. “But even if that truly is the case Geralt, none can come out of it. True, were you a higher vampire, the next course would doubtlessly bear no question, but you are not. And we vampires differ remarkably in taking ma – partners, far more permanent, as we have no need for quick procreation. While humans tend to prefer the privilege of freedom, feelings generally waning with time and changing along with the circumstances. Simply put, we vampires are far more protective, possessive, passionate until the very end, in point of fact, I could turn as Dettla –” He stopped, lips pressed into a tight line. “This – This is not – You cannot want – “

Geralt shook his head and put a hand up in the air, stopping him.

“Know that already, Regis. Still feel the same, wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t decided what I wanted. Sure, don’t know what I’ll feel in the future, as much I don’t know if I’ll even be alive tomorrow. But know one thing, that I’ll regret it, probably for all time if we didn’t at least try this when I got a strong feeling what I feel won’t change,” Geralt admitted, letting out a slow rueful breath. “Should have said that sooner, but didn’t really know where you stood.”

“ _Didn’t really know where I –_ “ Regis repeated, bewildered, the muscles around his eyes softening. “ _Aaah,_ Geralt. Do you frequently have mere acquaintances join your expeditions, to later leap into the heat of the battle, only to sacrifice themselves to ascertain your life is spared?”

“Uh – “ Geralt’s forehead creased into a frown. The image of Vilgefortz clear in his mind. He had always thought Regis had overestimated his powers back then. “Not usually?”

“ _Well then_ , let me enlighten you –” Regis moved at last, almost closing the final distance between them. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat, gleaming eyes staring up at him. “Not even higher vampires customarily sacrifice themselves, certainly not for someone they recently met despite being immortals and ergo regenerate in due time, only those who they care deeply for, or in this case, yearn for.”

Geralt stared at him, dumbfound. Regis had – All this time, already when they had faced Vilgefortz – ?

“But that was – How long did you even know – “

“Almost from the very beginning,” Regis broke in, voice alight with fondness that shredded the dark cloud over his face, huffing when he looked at Geralt. “Before you ask, then no, none of those ludicrous ‘love at first sight’s. Though not long thereafter before I knew. It’s safe to say my motive for joining your expedition wasn’t the most altruistic one.”

Geralt opened and closed his mouth, failing to find words.

He didn’t know what he had expected, but certainly not this.

All this damn time. Almost from the very start. Regis had known, using the war as a lie to travel with them. Regis had followed him without even saying anything about how he felt. Always been there for him, even in the shadows in case he was needed, without even asking for anything in return. Because that was the kind of person Regis was. He respected people’s decisions, always gave them a choice. He didn’t impose, but he made damn sure to protect and tend for those he cared for _._

His heart hammered in his chest, mouth all dry.

“Shit – That’s – “ Geralt closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt like he wasn’t worth it, worth any of this. The fondness. The overwhelming adoration from the damn beginning. This damn selfless and stubborn vampire. Not when it wasn’t long since he had discovered his own feelings, accumulating like a rolling snowball after just a few days together. It was nothing in comparison. Geralt opened his eyes, swallowing hard. “Been talking what I want. But is this what you really want? Like you said, I’m just a human, mutant at that. Don’t really have much to offer – “

“ _Geralt,”_ Regis said firmly. “I told you, we only fall for those almost completely compatible. You already possess everything I yearn by merely being you, always have so. I do not wish you in any other way, as that would not be the man I fell in love with.”

All the air was stolen from his lungs. He knew this, and still the words, the confirmation, made everything more intense – _more real._

Geralt drew in a shuddering breath, heart pounding painfully. “Then why the stalling? Because if it wasn’t clear enough, Regis, _I feel the same_.”

Regis’ posture slouched, looking as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him, expression bright and shocked all at once. As if it was all unreal to him too – a dream.

“I do not doubt your feelings. I merely – “ Regis raised his gaze to the sky, mouth slightly open, as if it had suddenly stopped working, eyes turning glossy. “All this time, I did not dare to hope, even consider the mere possibility. I tried my damndest to get an ounce of your attention, change what I believed was your misplaced affections, but it was always futile, out of reach, I –“ His voice cracked at the end and stared into Geralt’s eyes, emotions stirring on the surface. “I – I’m not certain I know what to say.”

“Then don’t use words,” Geralt said boldly, grinning.

Regis swallowed, eyes flickering anxiously. “I – “

Geralt grabbed a handful of Regis’ hair, shutting him up with a kiss. Which was like flipping some sort of switch, washing away any leftover hesitation, because the moment their lips met, an inhuman sound rumbled in Regis’ throat. That was all the warning he got before he was suddenly pushed back towards the cottage with a mouth kissing him hard and hungry, like a man dying, just like in the dungeon.

Gasping in surprise, Regis took advantage of the parted lips and shoved in a warm, wet tongue into his mouth, stroking it hurriedly and demandingly over his own as if trying to make him submit. Another hand traveled into his hair and twisted it to angle them deeper into the kiss, pulling them impossibly closer and walking backwards all at the same time.

Geralt’s mind whirled, everything in a daze, clutching desperately to Regis’ clothes, afraid he would fall if he didn’t. The hot slide of wet and curling tongues against each other sent his stomach plummeting to the abyss, but it still didn’t help against the burning ache that was building up inside and threatening to consume him whole.

He pulled back to breathe and Regis followed right after, barely getting a second of air before Regis kissed him again, pulling gently on his lower lip and stroking demanding hands over his torso. Geralt groaned loudly, feeling the blood pound and travel to his growing erection.

They barely managed to get past the door before he found himself being backed into a wall, his back pressing against the rough, solid wood. Regis all over him with slow, affectionate caresses in contrast to the fierce tongue that shoved back into him, licking its way back into him and making his toes curl. His cock throbbed and twitched helplessly, demanding attention, feeling so aroused that it almost hurt. He reflexively jerked forward, colliding with an unmissable, equally hard bulge that pushed back, firm and just as desperate.

 _Shit._ _Too intense._ It felt like his heart wanted to escape from his chest, his pulse jumping with the new friction. Even his knees began to weaken, feeling all wobbly.

“ _Mecsei nautrence,_ “ Regis said darkly and shifted the location of his kisses to Geralt’s neck, the tip of his fangs gently scraping the skin.

Geralt panted heavily. “What was that?”

Regis lifted his head, eyes bright with seemingly thousands of things – the overwhelming adoration obvious even to him now.

“My original language. Sadly, nothing but a mere common phrase,” A particularly mischievous look flickered past. “Wish to know what it means?“

“Uh-oh, think I’ll pass, know that look doesn’t bode well,” Geralt managed with a half-smirk, voice strained and cracked.

“Then it seems your otherwise adept skills of perception need a revision, so permit me to educate you,” Regis said, tone fond and playful.

Regis leaned forward in defiance, locking their gazes together with their lips almost touching.

“It means beloved, dearest – “ Regis breathed out hotly on his lips. “ _First and last._ “

Geralt closed his eyes, shivers running up and down his body. “Should have known you to be a talker when about to have sex.”

Regis grinned at him, proficient fingers skating down his abdomen.

“Why ever would I not? Especially when it seems to do wonders, particularly for a certain participant. Hard to argue with its _standpoint_ ,” A firm hand pressed over his cock, which twitched enthusiastically in response, sending a flood of heat upwards.

Geralt laughed, smiling so damn hard it would probably split his face, so damn head over heels it was ridiculous.

“Seems so,” Geralt said, terrified and unsurprised at how easy this was.

Until he noticed Regis was shivering slightly, barely noticeable. Posture rigid and tense as if it was pulled back like a spring.

“You alright?” Geralt asked, looking worryingly at him.

Regis threw him a strained smile. “It takes a bit more self-discipline not lose control over my faculties under the circumstances, but nothing I cannot handle.”

Geralt threw him a skeptical brow. “Then let it go. Not like I haven’t seen most of you already.”

Regis shook his head, pressing his forehead to Geralt’s shoulder. “ _No._ I cannot know what I will do with my instincts running havoc, everything is already so much more intense as things stands. I’d prefer not to risk it, risk hurting you, merely to release pressure I can forge through with other means.”

Geralt sighed and drew their bodies closer.

“Regis, know you won’t hurt me, not in your instincts or something. And it’s not like I’m your regular fragile, white-haired damsel in distress either, sorry to disappoint,” Geralt murmured in a tease, remembering all the times Regis had been feral without even scratching him. “Worst case scenario, I’ll be the first witcher to die in bed. Would make you famous for finally making it happen.”

Regis hummed in amusement, brushing damp and hot kisses on his neck. “Tempting, I shall admit. Alas, I would indubitably follow you right after.”

Geralt stilled. “What do you mean?”

Regis pulled back from Geralt’s shoulder, regarding him with a hesitant and insecure expression, as if he had said too much.

“Ah _, well,”_ Regis harrumphed. “You see _,_ we vampires form strong bonds with our – _mates,_ even stronger than blood-brethren, with all the emotions elicited within us. They grow, in fact, so dear to us to the point a sole life without them seems unimaginable. Dettlaff is ample proof of this. Once he had learned the truth of Syanna’s deception, manipulated as a mere tool, there was no longer anything in this world left to live for by his reckoning,” He paused meaningfully, eyes turning cloudy and distant. “And with you, I cannot even begin to imagine if I lost – “

“Not planning to leave you anytime soon. If ever,” Geralt interrupted, leaning in for their lips to barely touch.

“Careful, Geralt. I might just hold you onto that promise,” Regis said in a low rumble, closing the final distance between them.

The kiss was soft and more tentative this time, merely grazes of lips against his – as if it was a question for more, savoring every inch of him. Fingers wrapped around his hips, brushing against the line of his trousers and teasing the skin just above it. Geralt shuddered, every touch sent a searing trail to travel directly to his already hard and aching cock, rubbing painfully against the fabric of his trousers. Feeling lightheaded and too impatient, _he had been waiting a month for this goddammit_ , he pulled Regis harder into the kiss, their mouths meeting in a ferociously hungry and messy kiss with teeth clacking together.

Regis hissed into his mouth, a hot, wet tongue brushing against his own.

Everything was blazing, bodies arching together, pressing their erections against each other’s, everything just feeling – _right_. But he could still feel Regis hesitant and shiver slightly against him, refusing to let go of the control.

“Come on, Regis. Willing to do whatever, if it isn’t obvious,” Geralt breathed heavily, grinding down hard on Regis’ obvious erection.

Regis growled loudly, eyes darkening with need, and before he even managed to track what was happening, he found himself on his back, pinned to a bed with his wrists over his head.

Dark, blown-wide eyes stared back at him intensely. Geralt wriggled his hands to grab onto Regis’ clothes, but the grip just tightened, pressing him further down into the mattress.

He was trapped between Regis’ body and the soft, cushioned bed, legs on both sides of him.

Geralt’s dick twitched, a shiver of heavy arousal running through him.

 _Dammit._ He did so have a power kink.

Regis chuckled lowly, lips quirking into a row of sharp, gleeful teeth.

“Now what do we have _here?_ ” Regis said playfully, eyes glittering. “The legendary Geralt of Rivia, the ever-so unconquered and intrepid champion of Toussaint, _the lone_ _White Wolf_ , with a _kink._ I should have hazarded a guess, judging by your choice of previous partners – “ Regis descended to the uncovered part of his neck, assaulting it with a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses. “All immensely powerful. Always up for the thrill, _aren’t you?_ – the peril of letting go, someone to care for you instead, _being completely out of control_ _,_ ” Regis panted into his ear, hot breath tickling his skin.

Geralt drew in a shuddering breath.

“Guess you fit the criteria then,” Geralt teased back, coming out more as a rasp. “And rather not think about my previous partners though, especially not now.”

He felt how Regis smirked against his skin before pulling away. It didn’t take long before Regis rested his forehead on his, looking at him with so much fondness that Geralt could drown at the spot. “Agreed. As I intend to keep you for myself, for an infinitive period of time. As long you will have me, of course.”

Nimble hands released his wrists and stroked his chest instead, sliding over his hammering heart and sides in tentative strokes, before they eventually reached for the hem of his armored shirt and pressed solid palms underneath. Fingers spread out across his stomach and caressed his skin, trailing each scar as if he was mapping them all out, pulling the armored shirt upwards in the process.

The air felt cool against his skin as his shirt slid over his shoulders, a trail of heat following right after with the hands touching every inch of his skin. Geralt hissed as they brushed over his nipples, his hips bucking upwards.

_Too slow._

His hands flew up to Regis’ leathery tunic and belt, fiddling them with hurried yanks and slipping them off him to reveal a black, neat shirt underneath.

Geralt growled impatiently, almost ripping on the shirt’s buttons, not caring if it would be too shredded to use later, and slid it from Regis’ bare shoulders to reveal pale, unmarred skin, the scent of pertichor more intense without the layer of clothes.

Regis chuckled darkly, crawling back and tugging on Geralt’s pants in one powerful yank. One moment half-clothed, the other completely naked, breathless and shamelessly exposed to those lust-widened and penetrating eyes above him which seemed to drink him all in.

“There exist no words to describe how truly remarkable you are,” Regis rasped breathily, nipping and pressing mouthy kisses on his chest, moving down to his stomach, and placed himself between Geralt’s legs. “If there is something you do not prefer, do not hesitate to tell me so, _right away._ ”

Bringing some sort of transparent jar with a thick, dark liquid inside from one the drawers in the night-table, Regis unscrewed the cap, releasing a scent of various pungent herbs and oils into the air. He had never done this before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know the implication of that oil, knowing he would get fucked – in every sense of the word.

A full-body shiver ran through him, doing nothing about it. He just continued to lie in the bed, letting Regis take the command, finding himself not minding even a little bit. His already too-hard cock just jolted in anticipation, oozing pre-come.

“Really? Gonna use one of your alchemist decoctions or whatever?” Geralt chided without heat, breathless and hoarse.

Regis cocked an amused eyebrow. “ _No._ Believe it or not, but this has been stored for an entirely _different_ purpose.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “Mean to say that you do this often?”

“Oh, aren’t you a curious one?” Regis smirked with all his teeth. "But no, not particularly, at least not for some time, but daresay my hopes are rather _high for_ _the future_.” He finished darkly, full of promises, shrinking the tips of his pointy nails to blunt, human-like nails.

Geralt’s brows furrowed. “What the hell. Thought you couldn’t change that.”

The smirk quirked even wider, dangerous and smug, coating the fingers with the liquid.

“On the contrary, but it requires far more concentration than desired. Though, now I seem to have found myself a new, _very enticing_ incitement to hone my talents in this _particular area._ ”

Hands, slick and warm, with less sharp nails slid over his torso down to his cock in demonstration, one hand gripping it to draw one long, firm stroke, which replaced whatever sarcastic response he had wanted to say with a loud groan.

Geralt jerked at the touch, body going pliant and boneless, the hand stroking him at a faster pace as a reward. Then he felt something wet and firm pressing at the hole he had never even considered using during sex before this, but he is too damn gone already to even care, shaking uncontrollably and breathing heavily when a finger slipped inside, a rush of heat following with it.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Geralt cried in surprise, his heartbeat even loud in his ears.

Regis flashed him a smug grin, gaze too intense, watching his every reaction with terribly shrewd scrutiny.

“Not quite yet, but in due course, certainly,” Regis said cheekily, caressing and curling a purposeful, long brush over apparently a bundle of nerves, sending even more rushes of heat from his spine to the fingertips. Geralt almost shouted.

“Is this acceptable?” Regis asked more tentatively, as if Geralt wasn’t turning into a visible mess, which he was damn sure he was.

“ _Yes_ , _fuck, shit, gods_ ,” Because suddenly words didn’t really matter, and he had never imagined it like this. He had always been curious, especially during his younger years, but this was nothing like he had thought about. The slight burn, the stretching and loosening of his aching muscles to fit something way bigger, not that he knew how that would even happen when he was already feeling full with just one finger. The sparks of sheer pleasure whenever Regis stroked a particular spot inside, and he couldn’t help but moan and push greedily back at the dexterous finger to find it again.

Regis leaned over and buried his face in Geralt’s neck, lapping the skin under his chin, still managing to stroke his erection and slide a finger in expertly precision.

_Not doing this particularly often, my ass._

After a few more strokes, his body loosened and adjusted, opening up despite all his doubts and welcoming the finger more eagerly. His toes curled, the sensations becoming even more pleasurable, when another slick finger was inserted.

Geralt hissed, his back arching helplessly. It was excruciating, having absolutely no control over the pressure, rocking back and forth in its own pace, stretching him, sending every inch on fire. Only slightly distracted by the warm, wet mouth now nipping at the soft flesh on his ear and the firm strokes on his cock.

 _God._ It was too much. He wouldn’t last long like this, and they hadn’t even really started.

A third finger slipped inside with the others, stretching him to new limits he didn’t know he could, which was beginning to hurt a bit. Until the fingers stroked the spot again, sending new waves of pleasures and picking up a pace when his body adjusted more easily, moving around everywhere for a long while. Geralt groaned at the fullness, nearly sobbed.

“Regis. I – I won’t last – “ Geralt rasped.

Regis withdrew his fingers all of the sudden, and Geralt made a sound of disapproval at the loss, eyes unfocused and muddied as he tried to see what the fuck was going on.

A flicker of uncertainty darted past Regis’ face.

“Geralt, we don’t need to proceed any further. Alternatively, we could – ”

Geralt grabbed the back of Regis’ head, dragging him down to a mouthy, sloppy kiss, glowering at him. “If you don’t fuck me, _right now,_ I’ll fucking do it myself.”

Regis huffed out a breathy, quick laugh, the uncertainty waning from him and transforming into bold caresses on his sides to settle on his hips, sending shivers. At the same time as he somehow slipped elegantly out of his own trousers and coated his erection with more liquid from the jar.

“ _Well then,_ we cannot have that,” Regis’ voice was much darker than before. “As I aim to please.”

Regis lined up and lifted his hips up slightly in the air, and then something way bigger was pushing into him. All the almost scorching, slippery pressure eased its way further into him in a slow pace and Regis spread his legs further for better access, clutching tightly to his hips. Regis’ upper lip curled back in almost a snarl, eyes all desperate and black.

Geralt gasped and then held his breath, the intrusion slightly burning and aching on every muscle that wanted to tense at the intrusion. Pleasure and pain shot through him all at once. It all felt foreign, unfamiliarly hot and intimate. Something he couldn’t control, something unyielding, something that forced him to take it all.

It was too much, and too little at the same time.

Geralt forced himself to relax when Regis pushed himself deeper into him, his vision almost blurring until he was fully stretched and the pressure was all the way in, throbbing and hot. He found himself involuntarily letting out a rather embarrassingly loud groan at the stretching, potent fullness, digging fingers into the sheets and clenching around the pressure in reflex.

At that, Regis growled, irises flickering crimson for a mere second, and leaned down, forehead pressed to Geralt’s shoulder, breathing heavily and letting them both adjust.

“Gods, this is far more intense than I expected,” Regis’ voice was all low and rough, which sent a shiver along Geralt’s spine.

 _And remembered._ An unhelpful voice quipped in his mind, knowing that Regis had had one mate before him. Not to mention the bunch of other temporary partners, like when Regis had gone to the succubus in Toussaint, several times.

A sudden surge of possessiveness overwhelmed him, and he rotated his head to Regis’ neck, biting down hard on the soft flesh.

Regis hissed, one of those dark and more bestial hisses, and jerked forward another impossible inch inside, even deeper until he couldn’t go any further, dragging out another low groan from Geralt. Tightening the hold on his hips, Regis drew back slowly, and Geralt almost choked and just wanted the sensation to come back, feeling unpleasantly empty, the muscles already adjusting and the burning shifting into full pleasure.

Then when Regis was almost all out, he pushed all the way in.

Geralt moaned, closing his eyes. It was hard to think, to feel anything else, swept up in the new, intense sensations with Regis being everywhere, literally, all around him and inside him. He wrapped his arms and legs around Regis in encouragement. Pushing back to each slow thrust, he let into it all as deep, steady strokes pushed in and out of him, each one threatening his sanity as the emptiness he didn’t know he had all along was too much, before he was suddenly completely and overwhelmingly filled to the brink. He had never been the one to be noisy in bed, but that had been thrown out of the window as every deep thrust drew out something primitive, long and dark moans that he couldn’t control as little as the pace of the pressure inside.

He could do this forever, with nothing but Regis fucking him in long and fulfilling strokes on his insides, and he didn’t think it couldn’t get better than this, that it couldn’t feel more intense, when Regis adjusted the angle of the next thrust and hit something inside that sent a spark of pleasure down to his toes.

“ _Regis_ ,” Geralt keened for the first time in his goddamn lifetime, scratching Regis’ back with blunt nails, back arching.

Regis nipped his neck in response, lifting up to stare into his half-lidded, clouded eyes.

Regis’ eyes were definitely redder than before and slid their hands together, intertwining their fingers, before he jerked forward faster and harder, hitting the same spot with every thrust.

Geralt’s heart leaped, feeling like he was falling apart. Hell, his body was probably falling apart with all the flashes of white every time Regis thrust into that spot, pressure building up until he felt like he was literally on fire, with Regis watching all of it.

“Shit. Fuck,” Geralt rasped out.

“Right you are,” Regis still managed to tease, but his breath was more erratic and panting, more like a whisper than his usual steady voice.

Sweat slid down his chest, his hair plastered on his face and neck, probably sprawled messily all over the sheets behind him, with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin all around him. And still Regis managed to stare at him as if nothing else mattered, that he was somehow the whole world and more.

He felt helpless, ready to burst at any moment, and he felt how Regis became more erratic too, breath harsher, pounding in deeper, faster and harder, fucking him into the mattress, enough for it to creak. Before he could even control himself, since he knew he wouldn’t last much longer with the spurts of pleasure building up in intensity with each thrust, Regis leaned forward, creating friction on his cock with each movement.

“Regis,” He begged, almost sobbing, not really knowing what he even begged for, being already overstimulated everywhere.

Regis leaned down, brushing their lips against each other.

“You were made for me, Geralt. You are, in all senses of the word, _mine,_ ” Regis growled, irises completely crimson.

And he lost it. Everything seemed to become whiter as his body seized up, a flood of pleasure and heat whipping on his insides, and he came harder than he had ever done in his goddamn life, emitting a low cry. The orgasm trembled through him in such an intensity that he thought he would pass out from it.

He was barely conscious when Regis thrust a few more deep strokes into him and bit down hard on his neck with unexpectedly blunt teeth that didn't break the skin, the overstimulating wrapping in the pleasure a bit longer than usual with everything too sensitive. Then Regis suddenly stilled with eyes closed and shuddered, hips twitching and coming too with a low, inhuman cry.

Regis pulled out and slumped down beside him with an arm over his chest, both just breathing heavily in the silent cottage, the hand over his chest stroking his skin absently in small circles.

“That – “ Geralt panted after a while, almost in a slur, trying to catch his breath. “Think nothing I had before can be classified as sex after this.”

Regis chuckled lowly, burying his face into his neck. “Altering the whole definition of an entire word in a vocabulary? My, I feel honored.”

Geralt snorted, mouth twitching. “Will it always be like that?”

Regis smiled against his skin.

“I certainly hope not. By the time I get to more acquainted with your body,” Regis nuzzled his neck, dragging a stroke languidly across his chest. “Learning what makes you _tick,_ ” He demonstrated by mouthing a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, sucking it. Geralt groaned. It was too much, too soon. “Then I expect it to be _even better_ for you.”

“You will be the death of me. Too old for this,” Geralt murmured, sliding arms around Regis to pull them even closer.

A mischievous smirk played over Regis’ mouth. “I would think not, as I have an abundance of plans for you. No time for something as pointless as death.”

“Like what?” Geralt asked, arching an amused eyebrow.

Regis tsk’ed playfully. “In due course, Geralt, but first, I believe we deserve a bit of respite. After all, you must have traveled quite the distance, no doubt toilsome, and we are not precisely in a hurry to decide where to go next.”

“Almost sounds like you plan to become a witcher after this, stay on the path, killing monsters,” Geralt said wryly.

Regis snorted.

“Hm. Not my precise trail of thoughts, but it has a particular ring to it. Roadsides, bedrolls and the sky above. Quite romantic-like, in fact,” Regis said, peeking up at him. “If that is what you wish, then I’m not opposed.”

Geralt sighed, burying his head a bit deeper into the pillow behind him. “Dunno, been on the path for so long. Think I’m more looking for the road’s end these days.”

Regis threw him a shrewd, considering look. “Perhaps we should simply step off it in that case.”

“Maybe. Could just go back to Toussaint, you know,” Geralt offered, grinning crookedly. Because he still hadn’t revealed the next surprise yet.

Regis’ expression grew pained. “Geralt – “

Geralt hushed him with a kiss.

“Meant to tell you. They have withdrawn your anathema status for the moment, will be more permanent if you behave for a year. Something about me being a mate nullify it. All loving regards from Orianna.” Geralt said with a full-on smirk. “Bet she is plotting something though, Toussaint might not be a good option after all.”

Regis jerked his head back, staring all pale and wide-eyed at Geralt, mouth slightly parted without saying anything for a long moment.

“Ah, _of course_ ,” Regis croaked, lips twitching into a smile. “I did wonder how you ever managed to find me so quickly, even if I had not expected to be found at all, nor even the effort to find me in the first place. But this explains a great deal.”

Regis looked up at him, eyes sparkling with happiness. It was dazzling and damn contagious, making Geralt’s heart thump wildly in his chest.

“Well, didn’t exactly want to spend an eternity to find you, even if I would’ve. Had to drag your selfless, self-doubting ass back to our home in Toussaint as quickly as possible. Got no patience apparently,” Geralt said.

Regis lifted an eyebrow, but his smile grew even wider. “ _Our_ home, Geralt?”

“Mhm. Could make it into our permanent place. Could even turn the entire cellar into a laboratory, not that fond of wine anyway anymore, while clinking vials is like music to my ears,” Geralt half-teased, watching Regis’ reaction with a rush of nervous hope. “If that’s what you want.”

Dark, large eyes stared unblinkingly back at him in the dimly lit room.

Regis leaned in close and kissed him.

“Anywhere Geralt. I’ll follow you anywhere,” Regis panted over his lips.

Geralt smiled and tightened his hold, finally feeling like he was where he was supposed to be – everything feeling just right.

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> Only one chapter left folks! Not sure when I'll manage to write it though, since I'm trying to make the first chapters in the same style as the later ones (yes I know, rewriting, again) to create a more consistent story before I finally put the final chapter and the end of this journey. But it should be out in like 1-2 weeks from now!


	13. Epilogue

_Another sunny day at Corvo Bianco, Toussaint_

_8 months later_

Geralt had thought life would become calmer after they had decided to more or less permanently settle in Corvo Bianco, with Syanna recovering with the help of the antidote and no known secret revenge-hungry cults trying to purge another race from the world’s surface. There was still the occasional witcher contract here and there though, because he had always found it hard to sit completely still. Hard to teach an old wolf new tricks and all that. Regis didn’t seem to mind though, even accompanied him sometimes, and was always prepared with a stockpile of herbs and tools to treat his wounds.

It had been calmer in the beginning with them idling around the estate, doing regular errands in Beauclair, trying to fit Regis’ damn big collection of books and herbs that just continued to grow somehow, long lazy mornings together in bed, even if Regis didn’t need to sleep. But he had said he found it comforting, ordinary, staring at him with a stupidly wide and heart-tugging smile every morning when Geralt woke him up. Which often led to – _other things._ Regis hadn’t been kidding about everything getting even better once they got to know each other more eh, – _intimately_. He was damn sure he would break one day though, even with the safe word, because feeling like this was overwhelming and he didn’t know how others managed to live like this. To be this content, to the point time became meaningless.

_Happy._

Which wasn't to say that everything was perfect. They had their ups and slight downs.

He found that Regis was thinking, constantly, to the point he could get into these depressive moods, because there were a lot of things to get depressed over if you thought much about it. But he always found a way to deal with them, anchoring Regis, usually with his masterfully innovative jokes. Regis had apparently another unique talent – enhanced intelligence. He couldn't really shut his brain off, analyzing things all the time, detail by detail.

Geralt was still, as usual, a self-doubting idiot, especially when it came to his own value. He also had the tendency to think he was responsible for many of the outcomes and choices around him, that he needed to make things right, but Regis always managed to show him the opposite, that all the world’s troubles couldn’t possibly lie upon one sole person. 

They made things work. It was never exhausting. Never really irritating. They just. Fit. Like two sides of the same coin.

Things were good, you know. He was good.

One day Lambert had stood on their doorstep, practically shoving his way inside with a fiend trophy and several bags until he met Regis and ran quick eyes all over him, instantly recognizing what he was and gaped at Geralt. Regis had, _very helpfully_ , just grinned with a row of sharp, white teeth, which had really been the beginning of the next Conjuntion of The Spheres. Lambert had lunged towards him, Regis had fled as a puff of fog, and Geralt had run after them, trying to calm Lambert the fuck down. Explain everything. Which had taken a good half hour of his life.

“What the fuck Geralt?! Yeah, I get it already, you’re an advocate for ‘witchers only kill harmful monsters’, whatever, but this is _a whole new level of nutty to your nuttiness!_ ” Lambert had shouted at him.

“ _Dammit, Lambert,_ that got nothing to do with it! _Shit._ Gotta be _kidding me_ \- !” Geralt had shouted back when Lambert had jumped over a wide ditch just to catch up with Regis. Geralt had begun to suspect Regis was just messing around, because you know, he could turn fucking invisible if he wanted to, and sometimes Regis was a fucker like that.

Eskel had followed soon after once Lambert and Regis had made a sort-of-peace with Lambert finding a new passion in life – gay innuendos and commenting even more on Geralt’s sex life, especially the tiny bite marks on his neck, those were apparently funny as hell. Eskel had said he had a contract in Toussaint and needed somewhere to rest for the time being, which led to many late nights playing Gwent and drinking with a bit too many confessions and shitty ideas for his liking, like swiping grapes from Anna Henrietta’s vineyards the odd moonlit night. Vesemir would have enjoyed that especially. Once he had awoken on the roof, in Regis’ lap with him reading a book as if it had been a completely natural way to begin their day, if it wasn’t for his lips twitching and the later outburst of laughter that scattered the whole facade. Regis had just said the others were in for a surprise too, and he was still sure he had heard a shrill, high-pitched scream after a few hours, but Lambert had denied all accusations and wondered if they were getting old, hearing things.

Somehow, he couldn’t help but feel that Lambert and Eskel merely took contracts nearby. Always being in the area in some way. Lambert practically lived here, kept saying Kiera was on some mission and had to wait until she was done, pass the time somehow, which had made it a bit more difficult for – _private time._ Sometimes he had walked to the city himself to find contracts for Lambert to get him out of the damn house.

Ciri had been next, just knocking vigorously on their door one day. He had been so shocked that he hadn’t even moved and she had been the one to draw them into a hug. He had expected to never really see her again. Regis had been watching them with a small smirk, which was exactly the moment he knew Regis had something to do with it. And sure enough, Regis had sent a letter, giving her an open invention to visit them anytime. Ciri had been surprised at first about Regis, but then she had just shrugged it off and said it wasn’t all that unexpected really. He had frowned at that and asked what the hell that meant, but she had just grinned and said all she cared about was that he was happy.   

It didn’t take long until one after the other dropped in frequently, Evelyn, Joseff, Orianna, Anna Henrietta, Syanna with much reluctance and tense glances with Regis, Damien, Zoltan, Dandelion, Priscilla, Kiera, Vernon, Ves, Shani, Triss and Yennefer.

B-B almost went mad with all the people just storming in without a notice. Geralt actually thought he would faint when Olgeird, The Baron and Johnny had visited, unlike Marlene, who had never been happier, finally being able to show off and take her cooking to a new level.

He had almost fainted himself when Iorveth and Saskia had stepped into his estate one day like it was just another day’s work, thinking they both had died after everything he had done to pick up the slightest trace from them in Novigrad and Velen, nothing to confirm where they were or if they were even alive. He had thrown arms around them. So damn happy to see them. Alive, but trying to hide their tracks with all the people after them. With much reluctance, even Iorveth had hugged him back and awkwardly patted his back, muttering bloede gwynbleidd to compensate for all that sappy sentimentality.

And today was no different. Except it would be even more crammed with all of them visiting all at once. It being his birthday and all. Even Regis had said he was getting old, believing he had seen a few more white hairs growing out today. He had just huffed, as if that joke never got _old._

That was how he found himself standing in a dark corner of his own house, looking at how the living room became more crowded by each minute, chattering circles all over the room, laughing and bringing up non-vacant conversations. Syanna and Evelyn were in one of them, holding hands discreetly behind their backs with the occasionally shared looks between them. _Happy looks_. Evelyn’s almost impenetrable barrier mostly constituting of wry jokes and a snarky attitude to deal with everything had crumbled after she had been by Syanna’s side almost all the time during the recovery period, suddenly a lot lighter and – content, despite it all. While Johnny and Priscilla had practically adopted Joseff, tugging him along all around the house without letting him out of their sight for a moment.

People played Gwent at the table despite the mountains of food and beverages with Marlene not even half-done with all the courses she wanted to pull off for today, especially Vernon and Iorveth seemed to have a particularly vicious round. The kitchen and the additional minor tables which had been brought to the room to accommodate all the dishes wafted delicious scents around the entire room. Faces lit by the sunlight from the windows and the additional tapers in the middle of the room. And best of all – no attires. Except Dandelion, but he was a lost cause. Always been.

“Oohoho. Never gets old that one! Still tryin’ to butter up that ‘hag’ of a sister of yours for your imaginative title, eh?” Zoltan said, arms folded, smiling with all teeth.

Dandelion pulled up a dramatically affronted expression, jabbing an accusing finger at him.

“I’ll have you know that I have her right where I want her. Just watch, a bit more loosening with the help of my undeniable charm and even her atrociously ice-cold heart of stone will melt on the spot as any other fair maiden. She will not be able to resist. All according to my masterly-crafted plan," Dandelion said smugly, the feather on his beret staying as upright as his confidence.

Zoltan burst out in raucous laughter and Regis was suddenly close to them, clapping good-heartedly on Dandelion’s shoulder.

“ _Aaah,_ Dandelion, ever in peril of your own doing. Ever considered a career in politics with such a silver-tongue? It would serve you well,” Regis said with a smirk, sounding amused.

Dandelion’s mouth opened even wider, looking even more affronted. “Why, I’ve never even heard of such blasphemy! Good friend, arts and politics don’t merge, and you are supposed to vouch – “

“I heard you have been quite busy lately,” A familiar voice joined beside him.

Geralt looked down to see fierce, lilac eyes and a tiny, lopsided smirk on pale, flawless skin stare up at him, holding idly to a wine glass. Once his heart might have thumped at the sight, sent him a rush of warmth, admiring the way her black, glistening hair curled elegantly to her back, but now he just found himself being suffused by friendly fondness.

“Yeah. Should make it into a business really. An Inn with beds or something, would earn a fortune. Shall call it _Geralt and Pals_ ,“ Geralt said wryly, flickering his gaze between her and the person she had brought with her. Wavy, brown hair accompanied with a well-stylized attire, well-trimmed nails and lots of jewels, not as much as Dandelion though, and there was something different to him. More jovial, easy-going. A smile that could brighten up an entire room by itself. “How are you doing Yen?”

“I can’t complain. The Nilfgaardian court has been as impeccable as ever to offer entertainment of the highest caliber. Brazen boasting, inevitable rows that often result in death threats and of course our daughter who grows more like you by each day, which does not lessen the amount of death threats. Quite the opposite,” Yennefer said with an amused glint in her eyes. “But you know me, I quite like politics. It is similar to me really, _dynamic_.”

Geralt grinned back at her, watching her a bit warily. Their break up hadn’t been the calmest one. Yennefer had been furious at first and stormed out with all her things, which Geralt had discovered was literally possible with her magic. He had been just happy all his bits were intact and that his house hadn’t been teleported to Skellige. He had had enough of boat trips for a damn long while.

But just like when they had the bond, they found it hard to stay away from each other. They had been through a lot, thinking a relationship had been the logical thing to keep everything together. At least that was what Geralt thought, but they had never really talked much about what happened. Just. Accepted things. As they were.

Geralt swallowed. “Yen, we haven’t really talked much about – “

“How your kink for submission was way more profound than I previously thought? Shifting lovers when you manage to find a more powerful and dominant one?” Yennefer cut in, pursing her lips.

Geralt startled, whirling his head around. “What. _No –_ I – “

Yennefer laughed delightedly, her inscrutable face giving place to something more impish.

“Come now, Geralt. Both you and I know by now that whenever we weren’t on each other’s throats, we were either having ravenous, adventurous sex or accepting jobs to avoid spending our spare time together. I would not precisely say that was a healthy relationship,” Yennefer remarked softly, a bit drily.

Geralt sighed in relief. “Not really, no.”

Yennefer was silent for a moment, staring at her partner in the distance laughing at something Dandelion had said, or more like, several of the guys were laughing while Dandelion wrinkled his nose.

“I know you will have a hard time wrapping your head around this, but I’m – happy. For once, with him. It has put things more into perspective,” Yennefer said eventually, turning to face him directly. “Geralt, we made each other straight-up miserable. The only grudge I behold is that you are still enough of a selfless imbecile to not have told me sooner.”

Geralt cocked an eyebrow. “Takes more than one idiot to withhold a relationship you know.”

A sharp tug of pain suddenly jolted on his hip, like lightning, making him jump.

Geralt narrowed his eyes good-naturally, looking accusingly at the pale hand near his hips and the faint glimmer of violet still in the air. “Don’t know who you are messing with. Could have Anna Henrietta break you on a wheel for that. Champion of Toussaint, remember?”

A smirk grew on her lips, eyelids dipped.

“Oh, I do. As much as I remember you could stand to get a few more brain cells, in which the lightning bolt might finally have triggered some growth at the very long last. You can thank me later,” Yennefer derided, taking a sip from the wineglass. “But really, you do not need to trouble yourself with me,” She continued sincerely, raising a haughty eyebrow and her memorizing gaze to him again. “Now how about that. You came here to fumble your way through another explanation, yet instead of enjoying the show, I went and did your job for you.”

Geralt stared at her with slight surprise.

“Seems so,” He agreed and smothered down a laugh, a warm feeling spreading across his chest. “So, everything good?”

“Mm, and I can see how you two watch each other as well. Disgusting really,” Yennefer said and drew up a feigned revolted face.

Geralt contrived to look innocent. “Dunno what you are talking about.”

Yennefer threw him disbelieving eyes. “Oh really? Because I happen to know you well enough to see that he makes you happy, and I can rather tell how much you mean to him as well. The puppy eyes are almost painful.”

Geralt opened his mouth when an arm slung over his shoulders, bringing him closer to something warm and the scent of alcohol.

“What are you talking about? How Geralt likes to fuck powerful things?” Lambert cut in with a wicked grin, slightly tipsy, or he wouldn’t even consider touching Geralt.

A hot flare of irritation threaded through him.

“ _Lambert_ ,” Geralt growled, throwing him a pointed look. “I swear, gonna put you in the corner. He is not _a thing_ –“

Lambert rolled his eyes. “Oh hold your Roach. Geez. _We know._ I was joking. Old man really needs to learn how to take a _joke_.”

Geralt snorted, cocking one eyebrow at him. _The damn hypocrite._

“Fine. How is Kiera, Lambert? You know, the _powerful_ sorceress?” Geralt said, rolling on the words silkily.

A feminine figure in a sky-blue dress suddenly emerged out from nothing.

"Weak. Should have asked his professional opinion about handcuffs. His wrists are clearly still chafed from them. Think I saw a wound from a whip when he bathed yesterday too. Which one do you usually prefer?” Evelyn asked in a leer, leaning in as if they were planning to overtake Anna Henrietta’s throne.

Lambert positively fumed, glowering daggers at her. “ _I’ll throttle you.”_

Evelyn cackled in all mischief, eyes sparkling, and turned into a blue fog when Lambert hauled towards her and flew towards the door with Lambert right on her heels, Syanna grinning at it all in the background. 

“I shall be off as well, mingle with some of the guests, like you should do too Geralt. It’s not healthy for you to try to become one with the wall. It’s _your_ birthday after all,” Yennefer pointed out.

Geralt waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Got someone I’m waiting for before that.”

Yennefer sighed, shaking her head slightly as if she had given up all hope on him, but the tiny, almost imperceptive smile said otherwise.

“Alright then, see you later,” Yennefer said simply and walked away.

Vernon suddenly surged to his feet, making his chair fly back, enraged and shaking of fury. “How did you - How the fuck?! Always took you for a regular son of a whore, but cheating is a new level of fuckery even for you!”

Iorveth scowled, gesturing towards the Gwent cards laid in front of him as if it somehow made his point clear without words. “Hah! Don’t blame me for being a sorry fucking excuse of a player. Bloede dh'oine. You always managed to miss what was right in front of your nose.”

Vernon’s eyes darkened and hands reached towards Iorveth over the table. “Why you motherfuck – “

A door opened and closed, the sound capturing his attention instead, and he turned to see Ciri passing through it, being directly assaulted by Regis hugging her with an equally fond smile he usually threw at Geralt.

She had the familiar white shirt, a pair of long leather boots, brown leather gloves, her silver sword and brown leather trousers despite being the heir of Emhyr.

Geralt snorted, grinning. Guess she really was like him. Habits die hard. 

Her gaze locked onto his and her pale, scared face lit up, saying something to Regis before she approached him.

Ciri stopped right in front of him with a shit-eating grin. “Quite lively, isn’t it?”

Geralt smirked. “Yeah. Apparently me nearing the time I’ll need to use a rocking chair is something to celebrate.”

Ciri huffed out a laugh, bright-eyed and light.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to get you a nice rocking chair,” She said wryly and drew him into a rough hug, wrapping arms all around his neck, and he hugged her back just as tightly, considering to never let her go. “So good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too,” Geralt said into her ear, drawing back and dragging his eyes all over her. “Emhyr and your advisors still treating you alright?”

A smug look flitted across her face. _Uh-oh._ He knew that look. She had shown her claws, putting her foot down, and he couldn’t be more proud.

“Yeah. Still following me like my shadow most of the time. But, they have granted me some more leniency after _discussing_ a difference in opinions. I should be able to visit more often by now, without them lecturing us both,” Ciri admitted, confirming his suspicion, and grabbed his wrists. “Come, let’s join the others. I heard they have managed to gather one of those parestisomaches, you know, _the thing that captures things_.”

Ciri yanked him out of the house and it didn’t take long until they were all huddled together with the rest of the people here. Geralt found himself almost squashed between Regis and Ciri, which was soon added with Evelyn and Lambert over his shoulders, still harassing each other, and others trying to get into the range of _the thing that captured things_. They all almost meld into a huge and tipsy creature-ball, bellowing and throwing congratulations enthusiastically all around him.

And then, suddenly there was a white flash, blinding him for a second.

* * *

_Later that evening_

Geralt leaned against the tree on the elevated ground right beside Corvo Bianco, alone, staring at Eskel, Lambert and Evelyn tripping in the gardens, tipsy and giggling at nothing in particular, the crickets conducting a lively orchestra all around. He even spotted Orianna, talking to Anna Henrietta and Syanna for some reason. She seemed lighter somehow though, less bitter and cold, and they saw quite a lot of her after he had discovered she owned an orphanage beside them. He couldn’t help feeling it was suspicious though. 

A sharp, swaying movement sounded in the air and suddenly there were footsteps almost beside him on the uneven ground.

“Ah, there you are! It was always in my belief it was within your custom for the chief person of the event to join – “ Regis began cheerfully, but then abruptly broke off. “You seem troubled.”

Geralt looked up, watching Regis’ dark eyes alight with concern.

He heaved out a deep breath and turned back to gaze out over his estate and Toussaint’s soaring mountains, bluing with the distance.

“I’m getting old,” Geralt said wryly, even if he was serious.

Regis released a light sigh.

“ _Aaah,_ Geralt,” Regis said softly and sat beside him, shifting to lean against him, the additional heat soothing even if the air was still too damn warm. “I do not believe you’re truly deteriorating, not even your hair, and I’d even less believe you truly believe the opposite. You are a witcher and thus, as you very well know, have an exceedingly long lifespan. Not one to perish easily.”

Geralt pressed his lips tightly together, stomach in an uproar. “Never know Regis. Most witchers haven’t lived above a few centuries, sometimes not even one century.”

“ _Well then_ ,” Regis faced him directly, eyes looking bright at him. “Shall we make you the first witcher to reach over a thousand years?”

Geralt’s chest clenched painfully, still not being able to shake off the thoughts he had been having lately. “I’m serious Regis. Not gonna be here one day. Just selfish of me to keep this up. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day I’ll leave everything, I’ll leave _you_ – “

“You did not monopolize the decision whether this relationship should exist or not,” Regis interrupted gently and took one of his hands, intertwining their fingers. The pale hand smooth over his skin. “I already knew of the risks, and yet I chose this. I chose _you_.”

Geralt swallowed, heart slamming against his ribcage with those sharp, gleaming eyes full with earnest, raw affection staring at him. “Still nowhere close to being as durable as you though. One mistake and – “

“And I shall be there,” Regis cut in simply, but Geralt could hear the words being soaked with meaning. To protect him, support him. To do whatever it takes to just let it be that. A mistake. “I also happen to recall there is a particular way to enhance your constitution even further. A last resort in my opinion with still the slight probability of adverse consequences despite being a witcher, but one that’s a possibility nevertheless. The choice is yours and it shall always be so.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped, the memories of Jean and the rest of the shepherds still too clear.

He whirled his head around. “ _What._ Why would you even offer that?”

Regis lifted an eyebrow. “Why ever not?”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “I dunno, because, you know, you would get into trouble? Codex forbidding it or something? Kinda suspicious if I live over a thousand years. Not letting you become an anathema again.”

Regis’s forehead creased.

“ _Hm._ No. None which I can recall. I believe my brethren are trying to ignore their mistake by not even mentioning it. And none will as much bat an eyelash if a witcher outlives others. Merely assume you are proficient at your occupation,” Regis paused meaningfully for a moment, staring off into the distance to let the words sink. Geralt had never even considered it before, afraid of the consequences, afraid Regis would break a thousand of rules in his codex, because he knew Regis would just for him, but he never wanted to put Regis in that position again. _Ever._

Then Regis suddenly took a deep breath, as if gathering himself.

“We cannot know what lies ahead, never will so, and I daresay it shall be a long time before we ever even need to make a decision. In the meantime I think we need to merely take one day at the time. _Simply_ _sieze the moment as it is_ ,” Regis reasoned, fixing his black, intense eyes onto him. “I did not jest when I said I will follow you anywhere Geralt, as long as you wish. Even to the void beyond this world.”

Honesty was written all over Regis’ face, the lips tugging up to a warm, private smile, still the same overwhelming adoration aimed at him, even after 8 months.

Geralt’s pulse jumped, with his stomach apparently deciding to try to flip itself inside-out simultaneously. He barely dared to breathe, afraid it would break the moment, but all of it just made Geralt want to really, really kiss him, and so he did, hard and desperate, wanting it to never end.  

“I love you,” Geralt breathed out, throat tight.

Regis watched him intently, never breaking their gaze. “I love you too, Geralt. Adore you even.”

In the distance, Geralt could hear gleeful shouts and laughter, the sound of clinking glasses and one of Dandelion’s many ballads resounding in the distance, something about a vampire and a witcher, but he found himself not wanting to be anywhere else.

He was content here, _happy._

Geralt sighed, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

“Let’s sit here for a while longer. So don’t feel like going anywhere. First time alone for days,” Geralt said, shooting a sly grin at Regis. “And gotta begin seizing the moment apparently.”

Regis’s face broke into a bright smile, all his fangs showing.

“Indeed, Geralt. _Indeed.”_

_The end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Life is too short to not live it to its fullest._
> 
> So this is it folks. The end of a very long journey, for me, you and them. 2 bloody years, and I've learned a damn lot on the way with my style changing as much as the witcher games, which is why the first chapters 1-5 have been heavily edited and rewritten once again in an attempt to make the style more consistent throughout the story and to make the characters more in character. This story has been through a lot of blood, sweat and tears (of joy and frustration), with me cursing it to oblivion, flipping tables and promising myself to never write anything longer than text messages after this. It has been a very difficult task (and educational and fun!) to write something this big, especially for someone whose first language isn't even English. So even if I've edited this story until I went cross-eyed and have a beta reader, then I still expect there to be errors, so if anyone wants to correct errors or proofread the story then feel free. I would just be grateful and I could even send over a copy of this story for editing!
> 
> But I've finally managed to create an ending for them I'm happy with, an ending I personally feel they both deserve, which is absolutely not to say that all other endings/final pairings are wrong. Just that I prefer this one. I doubt I'll be able to completely let these two go, so maybe I'll still do some one-shots in the future (too emotionally tied to these boois). But I want to thank everyone for your amazing support, your messages, your motivational compliments and comments. It has meant the world to me and spurred me to write this fic much quicker. So, THANK YOU, you have all been amazing, and hope you liked this lil fic of mine! <3 <3 <3


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